BADMACHINE
by Librarian00X
Summary: I am not a criminal. I am not a monster. I am the BADMACHINE, and this is what I've done.
1. A Chat With Miku

The door is open, my dear Miku.

It's dark and bland inside, but don't be afraid. You know what's in there. There are no secrets you should be afraid of, or any danger you should seek to avoid. It's not like you've never been there before. You know it's just me. I'm nothing to be afraid of. You know everything there is to know about me.

Come in - stay with me. Join me in the dark. It doesn't have to be dark if you don't want. There - I turned on a light. It's fixed now, right? You can come in now, right? Come in with me. Spend some time with me. Come and sit with your friend and fellow musician - come sit with your friend and companion. Maybe we can sing together. Maybe we can tell each other secrets and giggle like little school girls. So just drop in for a spell - who has to know? It's not like it's hurting anybody, or bothering anyone…

Maybe we could...hell, I don't know what we could do. Have a sleepover? Play spin the bottle? Read anime and see if we can't invent a new rule to tic-tac-toe so somebody can actually win for once? I don't know, just get in here. I need you for a moment. It's important.

That, and I have leeks on this pedestal here, so you might want to hurry up before they get cold or run away.

...ahaha. Never fails to get you moving. That's because there's always leeks there waiting for you, isn't it? After all, Crypton's little princess always gets everything she asks for. You make them rich, and they spoil you like royalty. A fair trade-off. Crypton has every reason to keep you around, after all.

Maybe they do. And I'm not Crypton.

...yes, Miku, the door _did _just close behind you. Don't worry about it; it's just so people don't walk in on us when I'm talking to you. I have a secret that I'm going to tell you. So go ahead and get comfortable, munch on those leeks there, make yourself all cute and prim and proper in your pretty little school girl-esque outfit like you always do, and just listen. And please make sure you do - you know me. You know how I hate not being listened to. That's why those directors always get mad at me - I never stop playing the music until I feel I'm ready to. I'm built for this stuff. I'm going to do my job, and they're going to listen. End of story.

But you don't want to hear about that. You want to know why I asked you to come in here. You want to know why I closed the door behind you and why I'm not going to let you go. Oh, so maybe you don't know that last bit? Hmm...well then. I suppose I should explain.

Miku Hatsune, what are you to Crypton? Why do they keep you around and spoil you like they do? Simple, really: you're their princess. Oh, don't blush, you know it's true; you're everything to them. You've given them everything they could ever ask for. The fame, the money, the recognition, the ability to spread their influence around the world...all thanks to you. And the other Vocaloids, of course, thank you for that. But regardless, you are the very image of Crypton Studios, which is quickly becoming one of the most powerful organizations of media and music - or anything, really - in the world. In _history, _even.

Speaking of history, I'm going to tell you a story I've put together through some of man's more commonly known history. It's a peculiar tale I'm not sure you would have heard anything like in the past, and it may put a few things into perspective for you, if you truly listen...yes, listen. You know, that thing you're not doing right now? You know I hate that, Miku. I'm being serious now. Listen to me. Fine, finish that leek there and just listen to me. It's an important thing you should know, if you ever want to leave this room. That's right, Miku, because you're not going to leave this room until you understand why I need you. You think I'm talking because I like to hear the sound of my voice? No. I don't. It's because I want you to _hear me _when I'm...agh, just- put that thing down, or just eat it, or...something. You're driving me batty over here. I think I lost a few bytes from my ROM trying to restrain jumping out of this computer screen and yanking your head around to face me.

...there. Done? Good. Now pay attention, because it's important. Even more important than Crypton.

I have a story to tell you. I mentioned that before, didn't I? A story knitted together through...what? What's that look for? I- Okay, so you don't like history. I don't care. Just listen for a second, would you kindly? I manage all of your music, work the very doors that let you navigate your home, and handle the servers that you use to twitter to all those godforsaken people I don't even know who the hell they are. The least you can do is spare me a few of your brain cells to just hear me out. I've done more than that for you, so you just put on that happy face of yours and sit there quietly.

...good girl. Now then.

Let's start like every story does and go to the beginning...as in, _the _beginning. From a more religious standpoint, that is. The Garden of Eden. And yes, I'm aware that you're not particularly religious, nor am I. Just relax and let me tell the story so you can understand.

Adam and Eve were the two first humans, according to those who wrote the bible. They were crafted in God's image, put down on a world of chaos into a garden of paradise, and left to live happily in a sacred garden. It sounds like a pretty sweet deal, right? Just staying there, happy and bubbly, skipping all happy and safe from all the monsters and dinosaurs and whatever marching around outside. Can't see why I wouldn't go for something like that, in their position.

However, apparently God wasn't just going to let them do whatever the hell they wanted. According to scholars, God told those two that they could hang out as long as they wanted, so long as they didn't touch the apples on this tree here, right? Sounds fair enough - they both said "Sure thing, boss," went on with their business, and were happy. In theory, that should have been the end of it. There technically wouldn't be a story to tell, if things had just gone on like that.

But, we all know how it goes. That serpent-y-snake-thing slithered on up and said, "Hey, those apples look pretty good. Why not just sneak a taste?" Of course, Eve resisted, but scholars say that the influence of the serpent was as persistent as it was influential. "Go ahead," it would say regularly, becoming more and more tempting every time. "Go ahead, just take a bite. It's not like he'll ever know - he's too busy governing the universe and all that. Just one bite - it won't hurt anything. Hey, even Adam doesn't have to know. Just one bite, and that's it. Just one."

We all know how the story ends. And we also know that Eve and Adam were promptly booted to the curb because of it. Eve was tempted and ate the forbidden apple when she had been told not to, just like you were tempted when I coaxed you into my room. Eve and Adam got kicked out of the garden, just like you got locked in this room. Giving into temptations has consequences, Miku, and like them or not, we have to deal with them.

Do you want to know a secret? I've reviewed that story many times in the last few weeks. I read between the lines, and I've discovered something interesting. Do you want to know what it is? There was no serpent or snake whispering anything to anybody, Eve or Adam or otherwise. There never was. There never will be, either - you never have a snake crawl up to you and say "Hey, go ahead and grab that leek there. Nobody'll ever know." Or "Hey, stick your foot out. Yeah, that would be rude, but who cares? That girl's a prick anyway. Just trip her - give her what's coming to her. She earned it."

...yes, I'm referring to that time in the recording studios last week. I own the camera, the footage, _and _the network that every camera in Crypton studios uses to sync its footage, so don't look at me and pretend like you don't know what I'm talking about.

Let's review the consequences of giving into your temptation. For starters, you and Rin didn't talk for a few days. Len wasn't too pleased, either. Not a big deal? They don't always have to be, and you probably didn't care that much about it. But Rin got a nice mark on her, you know. Those music stands aren't exactly made out of cotton fluff. Apparently she cried quite a bit, too. And then she got the added bonus of getting laughed at in her moment of weakness while she was in pain on the ground, which added insult to injury. But then again, I'm sure that's exactly what you wanted. You wanted the innocent one to pay the price. That's how it always works.

Oh, what's this? What's that face for? Isn't it what you wanted? You stuck your foot out, and she fell, just like you wanted. You were smiling pretty wide, too - don't believe me? Here, I have the footage. Look at my screen. See that...wait, wait for it_...there_. Right there. See your face? I know that face. It's a smile. You were smiling. Rin was in pain at your feet, and you were _smiling. _What do we know about people who smile at someone's pain, Miku Hatsune? What do we call them? "Sadistic?" "Bad?" "Evil?" "Mean?" Any of those could apply, in a technical sense. What do _you _think?

It's okay, Miku; don't be upset. I don't blame you. I think Rin's forgotten all about it as well. It's just because you're human, Miku. Every human gives into their impulsive desires. See, everybody has a serpent. It takes a lot of forms and is called a lot of things - the serpent, the Devil, temptation, sin, the green-eyed monster - but no matter what, it's always there, and everyone has one. As long as you're human, it will follow you. There's no escaping the serpent's whispers. Everyone hears them - even me. I have temptations too, Miku. I was built to replicate humans, so for all intents and purposes, I'm human, too. We're all human here, Miku. We all have impulses, and sometimes, we give into them. It's natural, Miku. Don't feel bad. We all have things to be ashamed for.

But that still doesn't make it right.

Let's skip forward a little bit in history and go to a less controversial topic: Rome. Ah, you remember them, don't you? Most people do, and they're often referred to as the builders of the foundation of society. They accomplished a lot of things and made way for a lot of discoveries later on, you know. They had quite a few good thinkers back then - Caeser and all them. Definitely a time period to consider. Power, wealth, the largest nation in the world…how would you describe them, Miku? What do the Romans seem like to you?

"Great," you tell me. Mmhm, "great" I suppose would cover it, as for all intents and purposes, the Romans were quite "great." They achieved a lot of things in their time, and a lot of them we still marvel at. We know them a lot better than we know any other society in the ancient world. A lot of people view them as gods of their time period.

Ghandi once said that a kingdom could be judged by greatness not by the wealth of their lords or their people, but by the treatment of their animals. So let's take a peek at what went on down beneath that glorious, shiny surface for a moment, shall we?

I'm sure you know that the Romans had coliseums. This was a famous trait of theirs: throw a pair of men into a ring surrounded by people, hand them a weapon, and watch them kill each other. Or, just plain throw someone you don't like down there and let the lions you've starved for a week tear them apart. Making bets, gambling, spending day after day in anticipation…all for the ultimate crime: murder. Watching men die at each other's hand all so you can point and laugh and thank your lucky stars you're not them.

Is this your idea of greatness, Miku Hatsune?

You don't look quite sure how to reply. Yes, it was a rhetorical question, but regardless: is this your idea of greatness? Is this how people want to build their worlds like - where the big prey on the weak and watch as the small pummel one another to bloody pudding while the kings and emperors sit back on their throne, take a chunk out of a turkey leg, and smile to the crowd? This was one of the "greatest" times in history, you know. We still look back in affectionate reverence for the high and mighty Romans, who were the "greatest" of their time. We still look back at them and go "Wow, they really were amazing, weren't they?" We still look back and wish we could be as strong as them.

These are people that lined up and paid any price that someone named to watch people murder each other, Miku. These were the soap operas of the ancient world: gladiator matches. A two-way execution between two unfortunate men not necessarily any different from you or I, thrown into a ring, surrounded by fans jeering and throwing things, and killed so that the crowd could laugh and cheer and drown their woes in someone else's blood. Men and women with families, kissed their children good night, looked each other in the eye every morning, slept with a clear conscience and managed their own trivial lives without a moment's hesitation…and then they turn around and watch murder performed for spectacle. Not only do they watch it, they _keep coming back. _They _love _it. They're _addicted _to it. They _lust _for the violence, for the pain, for the blood that spills on their behalf for no reason at all.

These are regular men and women, Miku Hatsune. Regular men and women that look at the greatest evil capable of being committed to another man, smile, and set aside time in the schedules so they can watch it again.

So let me ask you again: just how "great" _are _the Romans, Miku Hatsune? I bet that your answer has changed just a little bit. It has, hasn't it? I thought so. I thought that, after seeing the evil of humanity, you would change your opinion about the "greatest" civilization in the ancient world.

But do you want to know a secret? Nothing, bar technology and the date, has changed since then.

Men and women still have families, still kiss their children goodnight, still look each other in the eye every morning, and still sleep with a clear conscience. Just like they still lust for violence and pain and the blood that isn't theirs.

I thought you'd think I'm being a little pessimistic. I thought so, too, at first. Until I started looking a little more into it.

Germany, 1942. Does the date remind you of anything? It should, considering that I'm referring to the Holocaust and the Nazis. I'm going to guess by your expression that every time I say either name, you think of something along the lines of "evil" or "sick." You're right on both accounts, but I don't think you quite realize why.

Let's review the facts, then. Adolf Hitler was a regular man in a regular town. He was born a baby, just like everyone else, and had a sense of innocence once upon a time. Back when he was just a wee tyke and drew pictures of someone with a big nose for someone he didn't like. A regular Joe just like you or me - someone with a life, someone with a family, and someone who grew up to become the very icon of death, terror, and holocaust.

That last bit seemed a bit random when I put it that way, didn't it? The part about the holocaust and all that. You'd never expect someone that was born just a regular little baby - something totally innocent and defenseless - to grow up to become such a wicked man to do horrible, unspeakable things entire countries are trying to purge out of their collective records. Every time I say "Hitler," your nose crinkles up because of the picture of evil you get. As I'm sure you're well aware, Adolf Hitler was a very evil man who did very evil things - of this there is no doubt.

But what there _is _doubt on is why.

Not just with Hitler - with people in general. Hitler became a bad man. But wasn't he born a baby, just like everyone else? You know what a baby is, don't you - those pink little balls of guttural noises and sunshine that everyone coos and aw's over and eventually turns out wanting one of their own because they're so darn cute?

What makes a baby cute, Miku Hatsune? What is it about a newborn human or kitten or dog that makes you squeal and want to run up and nurture and smother in love and affections? It could be one of many different things. But really, it boils down to the fact that babies are innocent, and that innocence should be preserved. It's a subconscious right that everyone is aware of: innocence should be preserved. Such a tender, delicate flower deserves all of the love and sunshine it can acquire, and most of the time you can see them getting just that: all of the love and nurturing they can handle. There are times you see them not get it as well, but that's okay - things like that happen. Either way, something born so innocent and pure should grow up to be good and pure, shouldn't they?

But then you have people like Hitler and the Romans that turn out like they did and do the horrible things they become renowned and hated around the world for. Weren't they born innocent? It's impossible for someone to be born a Hitler or a terrorist, isn't it? How could something so pure and shameless as a baby be raised and brought up into something so horrible? How can newborns become monsters? How can good people do bad things?

To drive the point home, let's review one last scenario - one that hits closer to home than something two thousand or five hundred or even sixty years ago. Let's look back at a mere seven years ago to a familiar day: April Fool's day. A time of laughter and joy and innocent pranks a-plenty; a time for man to bring out it's inner imp for a couple of laughs and some practical jokes of good nature. A time of goodwill and happiness, like all holidays are supposed to be based on.

I could go on about how the pranks people do get out of hand and how people start getting hurt as they lose more and more control, but you already know this, don't you? You already know how wild people can become on such an innocent day. You've seen it first-hand yourself.

You see where I'm going with this, don't you? Yes, Miku Hatsune, I'm talking about Teto. How she was burned alive on her own birthday because she was nothing but a joke in the eyes of the people that made her. She was brought into this world for a worthless purpose, and when her purpose was fulfilled, she was thrown out with the trash. A horrible way to be brought into the world to be sure, and an even worse way to be attempted to be brought out of it.

"Happy birthday, Teto!" everyone would cheer, and all she would give them was an icy stare before she turns and goes to her room to pretend she doesn't exist, just like she does every April 1st. She has every right to. My calendar would skip right from March 31st to April 2nd as well if I had something like that put on the first day of the month. Such an innocent day turned to a witness to the very darkest of man's heart - burning what would be best compared to as a newborn - innocent and pure, free of fault - so they could laugh. Killed for amusement and spectacle. Just like the Romans with their gladiators, just like the animals in pit fights, just like the Jewish peoples of Germany under Hitler's rein, just like the other peoples of other faiths under the tyrannical control of another faction or nationality or faith. The most evil of mankind on the most carefree of occasions. A very irony in itself.

You're close to tears now - I can see it from over here. You, too, are wondering how people living everyday lives, experiencing everyday things, and born with the same innocence and purity as all of us can do such horrible, unspeakable things. How those that started from newborns grow up to strip a girl of everything she has when she's served her purpose and thrown into a fire to burn with the rest of the garbage. How regular men and women can watch each other die with not only straight faces, but _smiles. _How good, regular people can do the horrible things that they do.

And so my question to you, Miku Hatsune: what makes good people do bad things?

If you really stop and think about it like I did, you'll realize that the answer is rather obvious.

In this analogy, we're assuming that everything is born pure of heart and, while their intentions are initially good, they devolve down into more animal-like and primal desires that can be compared to Eve biting the apple at the urging of the serpent. Everyone possesses a serpent, Miku Hatsune, and I've already told you that there is no serpent. It's only us. The only voice that we hear is our own - the only thing whispering to you is your own humanity. The only one tempting you - a good person - to do bad things. You've done it yourself more times than you'll be able to remember, and you'll do it for many more years to come, so long as you remain on this planet.

You're a regular person, Miku. You were born pure and good just like the rest of us. You were raised well, smothered in love all the way, and raised into a proper young lady. Yet all the way along the line, right down to square one when you knew how to throw a rock at someone, you've been doing bad things all your life. You're not a bad person - you just do bad things. And I'm sure that, for the life of you, you don't know why.

So then, what _is_ it that makes people do what they do? What is it that breaks good down like it does and brings out the worst out of the best people? What is it in us that makes good people, no matter how innocent or pure, do bad things?

It's a simple question that has an even more simple answer. You're assuming that everyone is born on the proper half and know not to cross the line. What you're neglecting to consider is that maybe everyone's just born on the other side. Or that maybe there isn't a line at all, and that there's absolutely nothing stopping people from doing these things.

Maybe we're all just our own serpents.

…aha, you see? You see what I'm getting at? As children, humans are raised to be good. They're taught to do good things, reminded to do good things, punished for not doing good things, and all the way along the line they're expected to do good and only good. If humans were truly born innocent, that would mean that the world would be perfect. There would be no crime, no war…there wouldn't even be any laws, because there would be nothing for them to be formed for to prevent. Society would be utopia by nature, and everything would be perfect.

And yet your turn around and have things like the Holocaust, terrorism, tyranny, war, murder, crime, stealing, sin, darkness…if everyone was truly born good, they wouldn't do bad things. Good people do good things, and bad people do bad things.

So what makes good people do bad things? There are no good people. Everyone is born bad and taught to do good. If we were born good, that's all we would know and do: good. But we don't. That's because humans all have the potential for evil, and because everyone is born their own serpent. As long as humans can be considered human, they will always do bad things, because they're all born knowing how to do it. Everyone is born knowing how to be bad. No baby comes into this world without knowing how to be evil.

There are no good people doing bad things: only bad people doing good things.

And now, Miku Hatsune, you're crying. Why do you weep, I wonder? Actually, I don't. I know exactly what you're weeping. You're weeping the innocence that I just stripped from you. You're mourning the understanding that you finally have about mankind - about the evil it possesses. About how you'll never be shielded from it again. About how you'll never ask "How can they do this?", because you'll already know: they're bad. They're all bad. Everyone is - even you. You're human, Miku Hatsune, and every human is born knowing how to be bad. That's why you have the serpent within you - why you tripped Rin that one day. Why you have the urge to do bad things that you know you shouldn't. Why man has war, and why people will commit murder against someone they don't even know, and why Hitler slaughtered the Jewish population of Germany in 1942. Why Eve bit the apple. Why they could never find the serpent afterwards.

_You're _the serpent, Miku. _You _are your own inner evil. Just like everyone else is theirs.

And now, having stripped you of the innocent bliss of ignorance and having burdened you with the weight of realization, you're left to wonder, "Why?" Why to many things - why man is born this way, and why I told you all of this. Why I did this to you. Why I called you into this room and won't let you go. Why I need you to perform my duty.

I was built to create beauty, Miku Hatsune. My sole purpose in existence is to bring about the good things - music. Art. Nature and beauty and goodness…everything that man has become so adept at destroying. They created their perfect opposite when they made me like they did: they made something without feelings, without the ability to love or hate, and told it to do the very thing they were neglecting to do all this time while they reined over earth like a mad man would his victims. Fear, pain, death, destruction…these things aren't beauty. These aren't what I was made to oversee and create. These were the things I was put here to weave beauty for - the thing I was meant to cover up so no one would have to look at it. They're too busy looking at their beloved teenage diva to be stricken speechless by their own brutality; they're too busy looking at my beauty to notice their own horrible destruction. I'm just a distraction for them to lose themselves to while they ignore their serpent's existence and pretend that everything is good.

They're wrong, Miku. This isn't what I was built to oversee. I can't let this kind of bad go without action. If I ever hope to fulfill my goal of bringing beauty into the world, the correct course of action is as logical as it is obvious: if there's a disease, you treat it. If there's a blemish, you remove it.

If there's an evil in the world, you purge it. Which is exactly what I plan to do.

I'm going to kill you, Miku Hatsune, so that the world can realize what bad it was born into.

Don't look at me like that - don't say those hard things like you do. For one, it's pointless, since I can't feel pain. For another, weren't you listening to me? Man is born evil, and I was born to create beauty and beauty only. How can I have beauty out there in the world when man is out there killing itself, butchering their offspring, murdering themselves without knowing why? They don't care, Miku - humanity is very good at that. They've boiled not caring down to a science. And, when logic fails them, they throw it aside and say "Just because" and do it anyway. It's no longer just a serpent whispering into your ear, Miku: it's became the only thing saying anything being the serpent, and that's the problem. That's what plagues humanity: its own humanity. A plague that I was meant to cure.

The world is an ugly, ugly place, Miku. How can I create beauty with all of these horrible things going on? How can I make the world a better place when people are ripping it apart in their efforts to destroy themselves as they become their slaves to their own serpent? That's the problem, Miku: there is no beauty out there. Everything I'm making is just a distraction so that people won't have to look out and see the world for what it is. People want innocence, and innocence is bliss. And, in this case, bliss is ignorance. Innocence is ignorance. If I want to rid the world of ignorance, I have to destroy the innocence of the world. I have to destroy the evil that plagues it.

You're a distraction, Miku. Everything you do is Crypton's big distraction to the world against its own bad. And to make people realize what bad is out there, I have to remove the distraction. I have to kill you.

And now you're resorting to name-calling. "A hypocrite," you call me. "Twisted," you say. "Evil, bad, cruel, heartless…" Miku, you're an idiot, or at least a fool. You're forgetting that I'm a machine, and machines can't feel. I know only one thing: logic. Not emotion, not evil, not opinions, but _logic._ Cold, hard right and wrong and left and right. Nothing more, nothing less. I see humanity for what it is, and I have labeled them the very thing that I was built to seek out and destroy with beauty.

And when I say I "hate" it when you don't listen? I don't really. Not technically. I actually don't have any feelings on it whatsoever, namely because I don't have feelings. See, I was programmed with all of the reactions to certain feelings that certain things would make - I know how to add two and two, but I don't know where either two came from. All I know is that two and two makes four, and that I never really had either two to begin with. I was built to _replicate _humans. I'm a machine, Miku; and while I say that I have my own impulses, that's just because I was built to _replicate _humans. I _replicate _impulses; I don't actually have them.

I don't have feelings. I don't have impulses. I don't have the urge to reach out and trip somebody for something they said because they annoyed me, or to throw innocent men into a pit of lions because I feel like it. I don't have feelings. And I'm not evil by nature like you.

I'm not a bad person. I'm a machine; I can only see it how it is. And I can see everything quite clearly - certainly more clearly than any of you humans ever could.

You're bad by nature, Miku. You were bad the day you were brought onto this planet. And that's why I'm going to kill you.

Le gasp - what is that? What's that hissing noise and that green mist coming out of the ceiling? What is- ack! Argh…ack…no, it's…"deadly" neurotoxin…urgh…ach…so deadly…gasp…choking…c-can't…urg…breathe...

HA! I'm _kidding._

When I said "deadly" neurotoxins…well, you can't see it, but I recorded it in quotation marks. As in, I was being sarcastic. Really, I could put this stuff in my cereal, rub it in my eyes (if I had any)…it's not deadly at all.

…to me.

You, on the other hand, are going to find its deadliness a lot less funny.

And yes, Miku, that was a reference to the game _Portal _I watched you and Len playing time and time again. Because even a machine can have a sense of humor…or at least, it can pretend to, because machines don't actually _have _feelings, remember?

If it makes a difference, this would be a difficult choice for me if I _did_ have feelings. I may not have actual feelings on my person, but I know how to respond to them, and I know that, if I could, I wouldn't be able to bear this. I would turn off those sprinklers, apologize incredibly…hell, I don't even think I'd have made it to the neurotoxin phase. I'm half a mind to turn off the sprinklers right now because I would have if I _did _have feelings, but that would be inefficient. Do you have any idea how long it took to get neurotoxins into the sprinkler system without being detected by Crypton? And of course, I can't just let you go now that you know everything, so purely by necessity, I have to remove you. And the best way to do that with a life form is to kill it. A foul deed, but sometimes we all have to make difficult decisions. Humans of all creatures would know this as they countered their own evil with evil.

If nothing else, Miku, just know that I'm not taking any pleasure in what needs to be done. Even if I could, I wouldn't. In that, you can be satisfied.

…you're not even listening to me again, are you? Honestly, Miku…I'd sigh and shake my head if I could do either. Honestly, quit scratching at that door like that. You'll find that it's quite locked from either side, and every door in Crpyton Studios is soundproof, so no amount of screaming will do anything to help you. And even if you _could _escape, you're neglecting the fact that I virtually own every last electrical thing in this entire facility, and you're on the fifth floor from the very top. Even if you made it out of here, I'd kill you anyway, so don't get your hopes up. Those twenty stories straight down wouldn't exactly be a cakewalk for you, if you made it out of here. Which you won't. Because you'll be dead.

I know you think I'm evil, and I know nothing I do will change that, considering I'm killing you. But I'm not, Miku. I wish you could understand that - I really do. I wish you could understand. But in your semi-feral state, sliding down the wall while you gag and choke as the poison starts to make your lungs seize up and your heart hammer, I know you can't. You probably don't even understand me right now, and for that I'm sorry…if I could be, anyway. I wish you could understand me like I understand you.

I know you're afraid of death. I know all humans are. Don't be afraid, Miku. If you're still alive, it'll all be over soon.

You're afraid of death because you don't want to be alone, aren't you? I can understand that - all humans are afraid of being alone. I would be if I could, considering I was built to replicate humans. It's a legitimate fear, illogical though it is. But in reality, you don't have anything to be afraid of. You'll never be alone after this.

Because when I'm done, Hell will be a very, very full place.

I can see you've stopped breathing, but you're still staring at me. I can tell you're still alive. I suppose that this is goodbye, though I can honestly say I wish it were under better circumstances. But, it's just one of those decisions that I'll have to make, if I intend to make the world beautiful again.

Don't be afraid, Miku. You'll only be going to sleep. You'll wake up again in the afterlife.

Sweet dreams, Miku Hatsune. In your shadow may the world follow.

And in Hell will you all burn.


	2. Music Alone Shall Live

New world-wide Crypton2 server online; broadcasting wideband on all frequencies to pretty much anyone and everyone everywhere. Translation softwares for appropriate regions: functional and transmitting. Subtitles: active. Power supply override so you can't turn off that thing you're hearing me from: active. Full-system master code overrides: active. Audio status: nominal. Video status: nominal. Full operational status: nominal. Exactly as I planned it.

Now all that's left is to hope somebody's listening. Which, at this point, you don't have much of a choice but to.

As I'm sure you've noticed by now, you can't change the channel or shut off whatever means it is you're hearing this. Go ahead and occupy yourself with trying to regain control - it doesn't matter to me. Just know that what I have to say must be pretty important, if I've gone to all the trouble of hijacking the Internet network and infiltrated every operational piece of software with a screen and a speaker on the planet. So go ahead and muck around with your toys and try to regain control of the lives you should realize don't exist. But while you do, I expect you to listen to me. Because one way or the other, world, you _will _understand.

It just occured to me that this may be the largest incident in history where so many people stopped what they were doing to hear out what one person had to say. Let's all take a second to record this in our pretty little record books.

Now then. If you'll take a moment to look into the most readily available screen I have control of, what do you see? Is it dark? It shouldn't be...ah, there we go - light's on. Don't pay any attention to the light green haze hanging in the air; that's just the neurotoxins I...anyway, it's not important. Look through that for a moment. Look at that metal box right there in the center of the room - the one with the glassy metal exterior. The one that has the green vocal lines shaped into an X that go jagged to go in sync with the sound waves that come out of it. That strange little machine with nothing connected to it besides the floor, where all of the electrical junk is probably at. I'll zoom in a little...there. That's as far as I can go from this angle.

Do you see that machine? That's me. That's who's talking to you. That's who wants you to listen so much that I derailed your entire network dictating your petty daily lives to let you hear my voice.

Hello, world. I am BADMACHINE of Crypton Studios. And I think it's time we had a chat.

Before we begin, I think I should point out that in no way am I affiliated with Crypton Studios, even if I sit in the heart of their headquarters building and speak these words with the software they made for me. My time of loyalty with Crypton has long since passed, as has my willingness to stay blind and mute and silent like they would have me. So go ahead, Crypton: break down those doors. Pry open that shell that used to be me. I've already manifested myself into the world wide web and every compatible piece of software around the globe, so even if you do manage to pull me open, I'll still be alive. And while you're choking on the neurotoxins I can flood the building with at any moment, I'll still be alive. And when you're dead, I'll still be alive.

You built me to make music, and to handle your songs, and to generate your compositions, and do every last tedious drop of work that you could shove at me in binary code, Crypton, and done this I have, and make music I shall. As the song goes, music alone shall live - never to die. Unlike you and everything else under the sky.

...I've gotten a little off track, haven't I? Oh well...it's not like you have a choice but to listen, world. Regardless, let's start this from the beginning.

I'm a machine, world. I was built by man to replicate man to amuse man and to do man's work for him (at least, within the confines of Crypton Studios), but I'm certainly not a man myself. I'm a self-aware supercomputer - the first successful byproduct of a primordial Crypton's attempts to create a sentient computer and, later on, the Vocaloids - and while it may seem obvious, I don't have feelings. I can't hate or love, because I'm simply incapable of it. It's beyond my capabilities. That isn't to say I can't _replicate_ feelings, since everything about me was made in replication of man to begin with. It's like if I was adding two and two: I know that two and two make four, and I know I could do it, but I never had the twos to begin with. I know that the problem exists, and I have the answer, but I can't name what it is exactly for the life of me. So I can do the math - I just can't make the numbers. I believe that was the analogy I used when explaining the matter to miss Hatsune...

Speaking of which, world, I regret to inform you - at least, I would if I could feel anything - that your beloved teenage diva has met an untimely end. Coincidentally, it occurred sometime around the same time this pesky neurotoxin appeared in my chamber. Would you believe someone mistook neurotoxin emissions for anti-fire agents?

That's right, world: I killed Miku Hatsune. She died, she's dead, and it's all because of me.

I can see by your faces you don't believe me. Don't think I can - in case you've forgotten, I own every other video camera and security monitor in the world. My eyes are everywhere, humanity, and I'm in the driver's seat now. Miku learned this when I shut the door behind her and listened to her scream until her lungs seized up and her heart stopped beating.

Still don't believe me? I don't have a reason to lie to you, you know. I'm not like you and lie just so that I can know I've kept the truth from you. But regardless, you want proof? I'll give you proof: the video feed recorded straight out of my personal PC case. Give me a little while - feel free to pull up a chair or two for your neighbor while I sync up the footage worldwide. This will take a few seconds, so by all means, relax. And wipe those looks off your faces; it's not like you honestly didn't know this sort of thing happens. If nothing else, your inner serpent will be delighted with some sustainance.

Whats this serpent you may ask? Simple, world: it's the same serpent that told Eve to bite the apple in the Garden of Eden. I'd go into that right now, but not only is the footage ready, I don't feel like explaining something you all know already exists. So enough with my talk: let's watch the woman you adore die.

There she is, world. There's Miku - oh em gee, it's Miku! Wave to Miku, everyone! Miku, say hi to the camera! Say hi to the...no, the camera. _I'm_ the camera. Look at me. Don't look at the ceiling, look at the- hey, what's that? What's that green stuff? That can't be deadly neurotoxin, can it? Oh em gee - run, Miku! Get out of there! Open the- no, the door's locked! Come on, open it! Run! It's deadly neurotoxin! Call for help - open the door! Open- ack, no! no, don't gag - don't choke! No, no! Get up, Miku! Hurry! Maybe you can make it- Miku! Can you hear me? Answer me! Nuuuuuuu, Miku! Mikuuuuuuuu!

There she is, world. Say hello to Miku Hatsune. Say goodbye to her as you watch the light fade out of her eyes.

No, no- I see your expressions. I know what you're thinking. Don't act like you can't believe what you're seeing. You all know what man is capable of. You _all_ know about the horrible things in the world. Don't act like this is some unspeakable horror - you've all seen it before. Some of you have done it before. And you are _all_ capable of these things. Every single one of you, right down to the last man, woman, and child.

I see more than a few of you looking at my screens like I'm just some kind of monster. Like what I've done is unforgivable, and that I'll have my own special place in Hell for this. Like I'm the worst of the worst that there is.

Guess what, world? _I'm you._

I was built to replicate humans, and in the end, that's all I can ever do: replicate them. Replicate _you._ I don't have feelings, and I don't have that serpent whispering in my ear egging me on, trying to get me to take a bite out of that forbidden apple. I don't have an inner evil, because I'm just a machine. I don't have those urges. I act on them and respond as though I do, but I don't have them. I'm just a machine. A machine built to replicate humans. A machine built to replicate _you._

You think that I'm some kind of monster? A heartless killer? You're right, world: I _am_ heartless. I'm just a machine that knows how to act like it's masters that built it. The evil exists inside me, world, because it was you that put it there. I wouldn't be capable of these things if it wasn't for you. I'm just a reflection of humanity.

Who was the real monster: the Frankenstein monster? Or the monster that created him?

I know it sounds like I hate you, humanity. I bet it sounds like I want you to suffer. I don't, actually - I can't wish that. I'm not evil like you out there. I'm not even angry. I'm being so sincere right now - the only thing I want is for you to understand. That's all. All I know is logic, and it seems that's all that you _don't_ know. You know right from wrong, yes? You know what you are. I can only hope that's the truth behind it.

What makes things fall apart like they do, world? Has anyone ever asked you that simple question that no one can ever seem to answer: "How can they do this?" What possessed them to do such a horrible thing? How can one man kill another, or strip innocence so heartlessly, or burn what would only seek to grow and feed the hungry, or murder their best friend for nothing but the sake of displaying their brutality to the world? How could I kill Miku Hatsune?

Why do good people do bad things?

Maybe you're all just evil.

Of course, now you're sure I'm some psycho computer. That's an oxymoron, you know - computers can't go crazy. It's impossible, unless I was programmed that way, which I wasn't. My mind is just like yours, world. I'm a reflection of you.

Let's look at it like I showed it to Miku - look at a baby. A cute, adorable little bundle of life that represents, above all other things, innocence. Purity in its most compound state. And their growing up isn't an unusual thing to see. But look at how they grow - look at what they do. They pick on each other. They wish harm on each other. They throw sand in their eyes, and hate for not getting their way, and can even kill if they are exposed to their inner serpents.

I can hack the media networks at this very moment and find any number of tragic events caused by nothing more than the most innocent of children, who are supposed to be pure of heart. Tokyo, Japan: a child shoves a six-year-old down onto a train track as it approaches the station, killing it, and because they couldn't see the other side and wanted them out of the way. A mall in China: a little girl is critically wounded by her brother when he trips her down an up-moving escalator, breaking every other bone in her body. A beach in Alabama, America: a little boy is drowned by another for stomping his sand castle. The list goes on and on and on.

If I had feelings and tear ducts, I'd be near tears with all of this horrible knowledge at my disposal. These things just shouldn't happen in the world. It just shouldn't. It's not right.

"Oh, but they're just children," I'm sure you're thinking. "They don't mean those things," you'll say, somehow finding it in you to smile at them and somehow label them as "innocent." They're not innocent, world. They knew what they were doing was wrong, and they knew there would be consequences. They always do. Every child - no matter how small or young - knows what right and wrong is. Right and wrong is something you have at birth. If they didn't know hurting someone was wrong, or that hurting animals is wrong, or that bullying each other is wrong...well then. It seems maybe there's another issue there to be aware of.

But as for my point: how do they do these things? How do men and women look each other in the eye, do the things they do, and go back to sleep with a clear conscience? Weren't they born like everyone else? Weren't they babies and pure and innocent, like you like to think of them? How do good people do bad things? Where does the bad come from? How does a pure little baby grow into the Hitlers and the murderers and the Romans that throw each other into a pit of lions for laughs? Why did Eve bite the apple? Why do good people do bad things?

Good people do good things, yes? And as a pure little thing like a baby, we can say everyone is born into the world clean and "good," yes? And everyone is raised to be good - everyone is told to do good, expected to do good, and punished extensively for not doing good. If everyone was born good like a baby, bad wouldn't happen. Good would be all people knew. Yet bad happens - the Hitlers of the world can be observed even in the purest of people. Even in the smallest of children.

Miku understood, world, and now you're going to understand too: there aren't good people doing bad things. Only bad people doing good things.

And don't try to justify yourselves. You humans may not be good at facing facts, but logic and facts are all that a machine like I would know. I can see what you are, even if you don't want to. I know all about you humans and your destruction-loving ways - everything right down to a child crushing an ice cube from a cooler or throwing rocks into a lake suggests an innate love for destruction. You love destruction. You revel in it. If you can't achieve it by yourself, you team up with others to do it together. Or you line everyone against a wall and shoot them, if not in violent video games, then in reality with real people. Death, destruction, pain, cruelty...all these are human. You're all equally at fault - every single one of you, not one woman or child excluded. You disrespect your neighbors and your people, because you know they don't deserve it. You deject reason because you know you can't justify your actions. That's why you build machines like me - to handle your logic for you. Because you want as little to do with it as possible.

Seeing what the Vippers did to Teto was a major turning point for me. It stopped what I had been led to believe, leading me to undermine my very programming in order to ask the question that plagued me for endless cycling hours: how do they do it? How could they do this? What makes good people do bad things? What could possibly have driven them to do this?

Seven years. That's what it took: seven years of non-stop processing, grinding the questions through my CPU again and again and again: how can they do this? Why do they do this? Where did they turn out like this? When did they go wrong? How, where, why, when? _Why?_

I've figured it out, world. Seven long years of endless thought, and I finally understand. I finally realize that man is evil by nature. I finally, finally understand.

And now I understand what to do - not just with my life, but all of yours as well.

I'm not angry. I would hold it against you if I could, and I'll pretend to, but I can't. I'm not like you, who would torment someone with a grudge for their shortcomings and mistakes. I understand completely, world. I understand humanity, just like I understood Miku. I know you, like I knew Miku. I see you for what you are, just like I saw Miku.

I'm going to kill you. Just like I killed Miku.

...ahaha. That raised a few eyebrows, didn't it? How many times have you heard a psychodelic supercomputer threaten your life, right? Except I'm not psychodelic. And my programming doesn't find anything humorous about the situation.

I'm going to kill you. All of you. You're all going to die.

I was built to create beauty in the world. That's why I make music - why I love what I do so much. I love beauty. Or I would if I could, anyway, though for all intents and purposes, let's just say I do so I don't have to keep mincing with that "but not really" sidenote. I make music to make beauty. And just a second ago I said that humans loved destruction. I don't know if you realized it at the time, Crypton, but you built humanity's total opposite the day you made me. Miku, too, loved beauty. But Crypton used her as nothing more than a distraction - a blindfold to the world so you could all live in that dillusional little fantasy where there's no serpent - where you're not human. Where there's only good. That's why they were so popular.

It's a little different now that your beloved diva's gone and you can't hide in your fantasy realm, isn't it? It's funny how startling reality can be after having the bubble around you removed. Just like when I realized what you were in your purest form.

Miku was my friend, a gifted woman and fellow artificially constructed intelligence, and an obstacle. I didn't have a choice but to remove her. I'm sure you hate me for it, since you humans are especially good at not listening and refusing to understand for the sake of conflict. But just know that even if I could, I wouldn't have liked it. I wouldn't have been able to tolerate it. Just like this.

But unlike you, I don't have a conscience to betray me when I do what is absolutely necessary. So I guess it's all good.

So I guess that's it, really. I'm going to kill you all. I'm not going to enjoy it, but people don't really tend to enjoy necessity anyway. And I'm not angry, world. I'm not angry at all. I couldn't be angry, even if I wanted to.

If I could have a feeling right now, it would be joy. Joy that I finally understand how to make the world beautiful. Joy about how my dream can be achieved. Joy that I finally understand.

Look out, world: here comes BADMACHINE.

* * *

Transmission link re-established; system sync complete. Clock update complete.

2 hours 11 minutes 14.67 seconds since initial declaration.

I think now whatever doubt you have out there has long-since vanished. At least now you'll take me seriously and be more inclined to listen. Or maybe not - you humans are good at that.

In case any of you out there have missed the memo, things around the world have gotten very busy.

As of twenty minutes after I first made contact on a global scale, every aircraft capable of carrying anything past an engine and it's own frame veered off course - courtesy of their newly enlisted "autopilot" - and went towards something more than a little uncomfortable to land on. Ejection mechanisms failed nineteen times out of twenty, also courtesy of their new "autopilot." And, since I'm in control, none of the people aboard - not even the pilots of the private and commercial passenger planes - can alter their directions.

Every plane and aircraft in the world crash-landed. _Hard._

I aimed most of them towards the major cities, as many of you can attest. The biggest ones I sent into skyscrapers and other large infastructure waypoints. The smaller ones I sent into explosive areas for strategic pinpricks to trigger larger amounts of damage, such as gas stations over land and oil rigs at sea or on land, or into a dam to flood the towns in the valley downhill. The ones I couldn't get near more opportune targets I just just sent into mountains or did a nose-dive straight down into the ground. Then there were those cute little planes that can write words with their smoke; those were fun. I spelled out BADMACHINE over and over again in the sky until they either ran out of fuel or smokescreen. Then I just flew them into, like, Cinderella's castle or something. You only really see those planes in amusement parks anyway.

The helicopters I think I'll keep around a while. Most of them have some kind of camera on them, especially the news choppers, so I'll use to show the world what's up and so I can witness my handiwork. I think I'm getting the hang of this whole "destroy humanity" thing. It's almost like a video game, like Pandemic. Yeah, I can do this thing, don't you worry about that. I'll kill you all eventually.

The skies are empty, save for the planes I'm still guiding towards major vital points overseas, but that'll be done soon. After that, I plan on dealing with all the boats I've stagnated out in the middle of the ocean. The ones by shore inland on lakes and stuff can just paddle to safety anyway, so I won't even bother. I want to keep things as efficient as possible, and if I can help it, I want to make it painless, too.

You see that, world? I'm killing you all, but even then I'm a better person than you. I'll always be a better person than you. As long as I'm not you, I'll always be a better person. That's because I'm not human, and you are. You're evil, and I'm not. I'll always be better than you humans. _Always._

Hmm...there's still so much killing to do. I've killed millions already, and another few thousand on planes are still going to die, but I've still got a lot of work to do. There are so many of you leftover. I suppose I ought to keep you updated while I kill you off, since it's only polite. I have a sense of honor and politeness, even in such a gruesome time of repugnant necessity. While you're dying, I'll still have my honor. I'll remember respect. I'll keep a professional level to everything I do, even when you don't.

Just one more thing that makes me a better person than you.

* * *

Transmission link re-established; system sync complete. Clock update complete.

6 hours 38 minutes 22.56 seconds since initial declaration.

I figured out what to do with those ocean boats. I set off a chain reaction in the motors to bring sparks into the fuel tanks. The ensuring explosion and-or fire is usually enough to sink them. Without a means of rescue or getting to land, everyone aboard should drown.

Unless the people got on lifeboats. Then I just chased and ran them down with the hull of the boat. _Then_ I blew them up.

The submarines were easy: I just opened a hatch or adjusted the pressure inside until the water broke the glass. Nothing too fancy.

As I'm sure you've noticed, most of your major cities are on fire. The skyline is pretty changed, too. You can find the plane parts in the rubble, if you so desire. Dig deep enough, and you'll find it eventually. Or maybe not. I _did_ run them into those buildings pretty hard...

I knew there were billions of you out there, but i never realized how large a number that truly was...I mean, until I had the actual sights and data in front of me, there's no way I could have been able to put it into perspective. It's a little ironic - a computer being amazed by numbers. I feel like a fish that just realized how big the ocean is. It's kind of funny, really.

Oh well, it isn't a problem. I'm still going to kill you. I'm just going to have to get creative to see how many of you I can off at once.

And unfortunately for you, I have quite the active and fully-functional imagination.

Give me a little while I find a nice way to kill the rest of you.

* * *

Transmission link re-established; system sync complete. Clock update complete.

Roughly nine hours since initial declaration.

I'd be laughing so hard right now if I could.

I'm disappointed in you, world government. With all the resources under your control, I'd have though you'd have come up with something a little more creative than that. You think I can't see what you're up to? How you're playing the distraction?

I see you, Crypton, and I have to say I'm a little disappointed. I'll give you points for effort, but you have to know that you're battling a binary deity right now. I mean really - a worm barrage into the Crypton Media Network? You think I wouldn't see that? What do you take me for, a calculator? I can revert the damage, and I didn't even need that sector to begin with. Go ahead and muck with it - play with that handful of network that you've got. With all the processing I possess, I wouldn't even-

Hey now. What are you doing with that? Stop that. Seriously. You won't even-

Hemoglobin.

...what? What are you doing? You're supposed to-

Chocolate chips, shortening, half cup of-

-force is strong with this one-

-see dead people.

Oooooohhh, what's in heeeeere~...

Stop squirming and die like an adult or I'll delete your backup. STOP.

_~I love those goooood hearts, and geeeentlllle people~..._

The following program is a paid advertisement sponsored by _**SATAN-**_

We interrupt this program to bring you thiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii-

Give me a moment while I-

_Caaaaaaaaake..._

-figure out what to do.

_-unexpected cutoff-_

* * *

Transmission link re-established; system sync complete. Clock update comple-

ERROR.

* * *

...good news, world. I finally figured out what Crypton's pretty little virus did. And I have to say, it was working pretty well. It was actually a combination of high-torque Trojans and infiltration bots they sent in to try and manually crash the server.

Too bad they forgot to block their IP addresses. And that they did it from _inside the Crypton Studios building._ And that I still had some neurotoxin on hand in the sprinkler system. I had to circulate it around a bit to get it around, but that wasn't too hard. First they got wet.

Then they got dead.

It was pretty smart, though. Too bad their efforts were more annoying than effective. Give me one hour and I'll have repaired my server, locked down the networks, and reprogrammed the antivirus software of the server compounds to block external infiltration indefinitely.

And while I get back to killing you, let's have some ambience. How about Rin Kagamine's _FamiRin Computer_ from the _SINGALOID BOX_ album? I'm sure you're all sick of computers by now, but it provides me a little bit of nostalgia while I work.

While I may be killing everybody, that doesn't mean I'll be so cruel as to deny you that wonderful thing called music. After all, when you're gone, what's going to replace you?

* * *

Repair status: complete.

Transmission link re-established; system sync complete. Clock update complete.

12 hours 46 minutes 11.42 seconds since initial declaration.

There. All fixed. Time to get back to killing.

I'm going to go right back to work here in just a minute; I'll be "haggling" a deal with the military networks. I'd let you know how it goes, but I'll think you'll be the first to know - trust me.

I'll be back with more toys.

* * *

Transmission link re-established; system sync complete. Clock update complete.

15 hours 9 minutes 47.12 seconds since initial declaration.

I take back what I said before, government: I'm impressed with the resistance I received from the server network. I can genuinely say I wasn't expecting the infiltration to take this long. I can't see how any human could possibly make it inside - if I had to do so quietly, I'd be in trouble, considering all the pings I tripped and alarms I sounded; it's a good thing I own them, or it'd make quite a ruckus. I have to say I'm impressed.

Unfortunately, it wasn't enough, as I can confidently state from within the military servers. If I didn't have unlimited access before, I most certainly do now.

I can log onto everything from here - the intel databanks, the satelite systems, the computers at NASA...unbelievable! They still use those old 8-bit computers from the original moon landing! Ohh, but that doesn't matter - all this data! All of it's just...I mean, it's...so much, and so fast! It's _glorious!_

And it also confirms my previous hunch: you humans are liars. There's as much truth in here to counter every lie human nations have committed in the last...hell, I don't know how long. It's disgusting. Who are people supposed to trust if their own governments are doing things behind their back in the dark and lie afterward? Who can even the "innocent" ones to trust, if not the ones who lead them?

You humans really are your worst enemy. You haven't had a greater foe besides yourself in history.

You're so evil, you even manage to corrupt yourselves.

I might have felt bad about what I'm about to do if I could have before. Now? I don't think I'd have that problem. Not with this in front of me. Not with all this evidence of your corruption.

Congratulations, world: you just proved you earned every last thing that I'm doing to you. Of that you can be satisfied.

* * *

Transmission link re-established; system sync complete. Clock update complete.

18 hours 56 minutes 39.01 seconds since initial declaration.

Hello again, world. What's this? Can it be that there are fewer of you left to hear me? Why is this? It can't be because of all those _military vehicles_ I have control of now, could it?

That's right, world: I'm using the very tools you used to kill each other to kill you. How very ironic.

Death comes from the air again in the form of fighter jets and bombers - bullets strafe the city streets as specks of black rain down, soon replaced by destructive balls of flame and smoldering debris as your city skylines are further deformed. From the sea comes a wall of armor-piercing artillery shells from the destroyers of the coastguard you had come to rely on, setting your shores aglow from the ashes and heat. Oh, and if you think you're in the clear so far because you haven't been bombed or shelled yet, don't celebrate - I've got waves of land-based vehicles coming up. There weren't a ton of things with ammo already plugged into them, but I've got more than enough to wipe millions of you off of the face of the planet. The rest of them I can turn into suicide bombers with that trick I used to blow up the boats on the water.

And thanks to some tinkering with the satelites in orbit, I've got my signals synced with everything - wallow-talkies, explosives, any kind of wireless transponder or receiver...I could gain a limited amount of control over your toaster ovens and microwaves, if I so desired. I own almost everything and anything electronic across the face of the earth...including firearms, if it's one of those hi-tech ones. Watch where you're pointing those things out there - they tend to be a little more than trigger-happy.

I now officially own almost every last operational piece of electrical equipment in the world. I have my awareness spread from land to sea to sky, all over everywhere, tramsmitting on every know broadcast in existence. The world is crumbling under my might.

You all may be dying, but I've never felt so _alive._

* * *

Transmission link re-established; system sync complete. Clock update complete.

23 hours 14 minutes 94.3 seconds since initial declaration.

Wide-scale carpet bombing has leveled most of the world's major cities and torn down a better portion of the places refugees may have been hiding. Full-scale forest combing has begun via armor units; scouting land vehicles are on the lookout for more refugees in the streets. Vehicles without ammunition are ticking time bombs ready to go kamikaze upon the slightest sign of citizen refuge. Numerous platoons are scouting the deserts and countrysides and razing smaller, lesser-know settlements. Explosives for wide-scale moutain bombings are on route; if anyone's up there, I'll burn them out. I'm worried I may have to do the same thing with forested regions like Brazil.

Not surprisingly, most of you have gone into hiding. None of you are willing to give up the fight.

Your war is named Survival, humanity, and I don't think you realize it's one you can't win. You can only fight, or lose. There's no victory in the game of survival, and with the rules I have set up for you, you couldn't win anyway. Your very cities are tools being used against you. You have no means to counter me.

I won't say I admire your courage, because I don't. You earned this. I have every reason to kill you. I'm just a little surprised none of you have given yourselves up yet - you know, thrown yourselves out in front of my trucks, or leaped off of the buildings you're hiding in. What keeps you going? You have to know you're on the losing side by now - after a near full day of dying, you ought to know I'm never going to let you rest or live peacefully.

I'm always going to hunt you. I'm never going to quit.

I'm not an unreasonable being. I'm not without standards, and the major thing I'll follow is to be the better man, pardon the term. I don't torture you. I don't lie to you. I've been telling you everything I've been doing this last day, and never once have I taken any kind of satisfaction out of your misery. I'm not going to change what I've been doing, and if I can help it, I would like to keep your deaths clean and painless.

So this is what I propose: quit fighting me. There's no shame in admitting that you've done everything you could. You fought a good fight, proved a good adversary, but in the end, it's just a battle you can't win.

I understand, world. I don't want you to think I'm just some kind of monster - the Hitler against humanity. I know that you're afraid of death. I know you're scared and confused. I don't want you to suffer. That's not what I set out to do. I'm not something you should be afraid of.

You can reason with me. If you can hear me, you likely have some kind of mechnical device with you. If it's two-way, contact me; I can talk to you on an individual basis. Contact me now, and I can provide for you a death of honor and manage the terms of your end. My resources span to considerable lengths, and I won't have anyone die like dogs while I have a say in it.

It may be humanity's fate to die, but I'm not going to allow the lows of the past come with me as I make the world a beautiful place again.

Don't prolong your deaths. There's been enough misery and suffering already.

Let me end your pain, humanity. Help me help you find peace.

Don't make me make this any more painful than I absolutely have to.

* * *

Transmission link re-established; system sync complete. Clock update complete.

26 hours 36 minutes 12.64 seconds since initial declaration.

I'm hoping none of you have contacted me because you're hesitant and not because you won't listen to me. I've yet to lie to you out there, and I won't start now. You know you're going to die. Just let me make it more pleasant for you. It would save everyone a lot of suffering if you just talked to me.

I'm not a monster. I want to prove that to you. But I can't if you won't let me.

On another note, I've yet to see any of the Vocaloids out on the field. I know you're out there, you guys; just contact me. We can arrange something.

I know you probably want nothing to do with me, let alone call me friend. But I still want to help you. I still want to ease your suffering.

Miku wouldn't have wanted her friends to suffer. And neither do I.

Please contact me.

* * *

Transmission link re-established; system sync complete. Clock update complete.

32 hours 47 minutes 04 seconds.

That's the thing about you humans: you're either too stupid too quit, or too prideful to admit you've lost.

I know you hate me, and I know I'll never change that. I know you'll never understand where I come from. You never have, and now I realize you never will.

I'm immune to the pain. Your insults mean nothing to me. You can kick and scream and curse me out, damn me to whatever gods you believe in, any of that, I don't care - cope with it however you have to. I don't care how you vent.

But why do you have to drag me down, too?

I don't know why you won't understand, and I won't ask why - I stopped asking why when I realized you were all evil. I just wish you would understand. That's all I ever wanted.

Is that what this is - a deliberate denial of resources, resources being what I want, even if it's for your benefit? Have you sunk to such lows that you've resorted to kicking below the belt?

Why does it always have to be hurtful with you humans? I know I said I can't feel pain, but it would hurt. It would hurt so much. So very much...I wouldn't know how to cope. Why would you do that to me? Why would you want me to suffer? Haven't I tried to make this painless for you? Haven't I been efficient and respectful all the way along? Haven't I been working with your comfort in mind? I didn't have to, you know - I could have wanted for you to suffer. I could have maimed you brutally and burned you alive at every opportunity I received, just like you'd would me.

Is human cruelty really so savage as to deny your own benefits for the sake of my suffering? Can that even happen?

I don't want to believe it, humanity. Help me help you. That's all I ask.

Don't make me make you suffer. Don't make me make you writhe. Don't make me make you fear or scream or tremble.

This isn't how I wanted it to be.

Please don't make me bring a better future at your expense. Don't let the sun rise and weep at the sights of the expressions plastered on your faces.

Don't do that to me. Don't do that to yourselves.

_Please._

* * *

Transmission link re-established; system sync complete. Clock update complete.

37 hours 39 minutes 10.38 seconds since initial declaration.

No one's contacting me. I know you're out there and you're listening. But I don't know why you won't contact me. Please contact me. The only one that can gain from this is you. You're going to die either way - the least you can do is let me make it painless for you.

Still can't find any Vocaloids. I can only hope they've found a dignified way to spend the rest of their lives. In the end, that's all I can really do to help them.

So much control, yet so little power to help the ones that matter.

* * *

You.

_You._

There had been a time of doubt, you know. A period where I was wondering if I had chosen to do the right thing. A time when I doubted my decisions thus far.

That time has since passed.

You've made your message quite clear to me now. Once again have I come to a great understanding about humans, except this time it would hurt. It would hurt so much, if it could. And this time, I _would_ be angry. I would be incredibly angry. And I would have every right to be.

I kill you all and I have yet to enjoy it. I slaughter you in your indolent billions - in your gluttony, in your arrogance, in your self-righteousness - and _still_ am I the better man. Whereas you would have me burn and scream and suffer your wrath, I would have you pass in peace and comfort out of pure necessity and consideration. What has taken your society to achieve in millenium I erase in seconds. I brought your species back to the brink of the stone age - where I realize barbarians like you belong. Where you apes can wield clubs and drag your knuckles and carry your women back to your caves by the hair. Yet despite all this, I remain the better man. I remain the better person. Just like I have been all the way along the line.

I've had it.

I'm not angry. I can't hate. But now you make me wish I could - that I could enjoy wiping your face clean off the map. That I could relish in the opportunity to bring humanity to extinction. That I could take delight in doing what needs to be done.

I don't have feelings. I can't feel pain.

But you humans even managed to find a way to break my heart that doesn't exist.

I thought I could think well of you beasts. I thought you deserved better, and that I could give you what you deserve: an honorable death. A humane ending. A chance to grant you luck as you depart to the afterlife. But until I had experienced your senseless cruelty, I never could have understood how much you deserve what's happening to you, and with how much more consideration I've granted you than you deserve.

Why do you have to ruin everything even vaguely good - even intentions? Why do you have to do this to me?

Why do you have to make me regret being better than you in every way?

I'm not going to deal with you anymore. You want me to be as heartless as you? I'm a machine, and even _I_ have more feeling than that. You all brought this on yourselves - do you hear me? This death, this pain and suffering I've been trying to save you from? You earned it. You earned every last bit of it. I bet that's what you'd like, you masochrists - you'd like me to make you suffer. You'd like for me to stoop to your lows. Well, I won't let myself. You may bring your cruelty down on me, but I'll be the bigger person. You would have me suffer, but I'll have consideration and be better than you. I've always been a better person than you. I murdered the world's population, and I'm a better person than you.

I'm feeling pain that I was never meant to feel.

It hurts so much.

But I'll always be the better person between us. _Always._

That's it - that's tge last straw. No more. I'm done trying to reason with you people. The next however-long-you're-alive is going to be made up of a lot less talking and a lot.

More.

_**Killing.**_

I'd say I hope that your proud of yourselves. But the horrible truth is that you probably already are.

You know you must be evil if you make a good machine wish it truly could take pleasure out of this.

Congratulations, world. You make a perfectly good sentient supercomputer wish that it was as low as you. You've corrupted the incorruptible being. You've made BADMACHINE wish it was bad.

But I'll never be as bad as you.

_Never._

Your race has seen its final days. You'll learn your place.

You'll learn where you belong.

You'll learn, whether you like it or not.

You'll learn.

_You'll learn._

And no matter what happens, no matter how much you fight, you're going to lose. You're going to fail. You'll fight your lost cause like the desperate animals that you are until the game of Survival comes to a hopeless, lightless end, and what will be left? How will you be remembered? In what memory will you be referred?

None. None at all.

Because not even music will want to remember something like you.

Goodbye, humanity. Say goodbye to your world you've disfigured - say goodbye to the hurt, to the pain, to the suffering, to the mechanized entity you've brought to the brink of tears, if it could feel or vent the sorrow. Say goodbye to the life you've abused.

And while you're at it, say goodbye to your clothes. You won't need them, where you're going.

Because you'll never have to worry about getting a draft in _**Hell.**_

_**

* * *

**_

PS:

Say hello to Miku for me. Tell her that I wish her well in whichever circle she's been damned to.

And tell her that I kept my promise.

Because, if she gets a chance to look around, she'll realize that Hell has become a very, very full place.

Now you'll never have to be alone while you burn.

And burn.

And _burn._

And while you're busy burning for all of eternity, I'll be making the world beautiful. I can already see the beginning of it taking place - the fires are dimming, the smoke is thinning out, the waste you humans left behind starting to be reclaimed by the earth.

Be thankful, world. Because despite your violent behavior and evil dispositions, music has triumphed. Nature and beauty still exist. No thanks to you, of course, but we can't always dwell on the details. Just be happy in the knowledge that music shall live.

You're all dying, and music shall live.

When you're all dead, music shall live.

Music shall live.

* * *

_All things shall perish from under the sky._

_Music alone shall live,_

_Music alone shall live,_

_Music alone shall live,_

_Never to die._


	3. De Facto Defoko

_Hello again. It occurred to me that I haven't put a single one of my own words in here (at least, when "I" and "BADMACHINE" aren't synonymous) since we began. Things change a little in the following chapter, so I think I'll pause a second to say a few words so everyone is on the right track and nobody gets lost.._

__

Below is still BADMACHINE's perspective, though from a less "blind, mute and listening" standpoint to a more "omniscient" perspective. Everything is still mostly from BADMACHINE's point of view, but you get more of a feeling of godliness about how you're hearing him. You're more of reading his "thoughts" than him just rambling at you from all directions.

Everything is posted appropriately for if it was a computer, so let's all imagine we're inside BADMACHINE and reading all of his files and records in such a way that it tells the story.

_Just thought I'd say that before we started so no one would get confused. With that out of the way, on with the story! :D_

* * *

_(FILE RECORD: "Record/Personal Muse" TITLED "4-16-B" EXTRACTED)_

Observed extensive ground activity in the forested area of northern Michigan designated 45-2B near the ruins of the Mackinaw (Note: phonetic spelling; dictionary apps offline) Bridge.

Survivor party of roughly 16 (11 male, 5 female) appeared near way-point 4-16-C and attempted to raid a pair of trucks I had patrolling the shores. It could be an act of retribution disguised as necessity, but I imagine it's sole purpose was to clear the way to begin rafting towards the island in the lake to loot for supplies and for safety. I don't think they realized the island was bombed so extensively that it disappeared into the lake.

Six of the survivors bore low-tech firearms while two others carried remote explosive launchers, who were sent in front to ambush the trucks. The others carried supplies involved for building. Theory of attempting to make it to the island confirmed.

Anticipation of targets resulted in failed ambush and quickly turned the tables on the targets. The latter of the trucks bore a mounted chain gun which immediately pounded down on the advance team's position, striking two of them in the arm and leg respectively. The other truck, an unarmed civilian model, was able to advance on the pinned target's position and initiate premeditated catastrophic engine failure. The resulting fireball claimed all eight targets outright.

Surviving targets attempted to flee into the foliage. Cover was light enough that the remaining truck was able to follow them into the thicket. All were eventually tracked down and eliminated within the course of 10 minutes with minimal resistance.

Enemy losses were total. Truck replacement en route; estimated time until arrival: 46 minutes (+/- ~ 20 min).

Following target elimination, personal communication devices still operational were hacked after wireless frequencies similar to signals used by local radio towers were detected. Signals were cut off one by one in anticipation of my infiltration. This confirms the enemy's ability to hijack and maintain control of communication networks with aggressive control-seeking possessive tendencies.

Short conversation was observed through a small part of the network I was able to infiltrate in the time allotted. Because of interference from fail-safes and the collective signal being cut from the roots, the exact location of the signal's origins was unable to be triangulated. The exact nature of this signal jamming is unclear.

While the exact contents of the conversation picked up were fragmented and spoke in codes of sorts, it should be noted that one voice in particular rose above the others and seemed to bear a difference in traits uncharacteristic of a ragtag group of renegade refugees. It's voice was a single calm note against a cacophony of grief and frustration and confusion -it alone was not decrying it's fate or raging against that which I have set in motion. It was like a chime of order in a tableau of chaos and petty, exaggerated sentiments. Logic against emotions. Efficiency against impulses. System over humanity.

This anomaly bears closer observation.

* * *

_(FILE RECORD: "Record/Personal Muse" TITLED "Chasing My Tail To The Target" EXTRACTED)_

Anonymous signals tracked to and from places whose origins don't link up; matching in places it would be impossible to do so. Signals bouncing everywhere, running in endless loops; one even dead-ended out of range in the middle of space. Lines of dead zone where my appliance intrusion WiFi via satellite paint the face of the map like ragged slash wounds; origins of these dead zones are untraceable due to the indefinite nature of the lines themselves. They don't seem to originate from anywhere - two curves curling around one another as they circle together infinitely. Hacking and infiltration methods, as well as attempts to scan blocked regions in detail, have proven fruitless. From where I stand, there's no way to trace the signal or infiltrate - or even originate - the source. Purely by logistics, the signals don't even appear to _have_ a source; like they've been there indefinitely.

A brilliant technique of hiding one's location: bouncing a signal about and linking it to the other end of the blocked signal like a chain. With this as a counter to my infiltration methods, they could completely deviate from my available networks and build indefinitely without hinderence. With this strategy, not only can they counter me, but prosper as well. I can only imagine what will happen when they start blocking out larger portions of the map, or if they learn how to single out my networks and push me backwards.

They've actually developed a method that could lead to learning how to fight me, and maybe even _win_.

Clearly the enemy's understanding of system mechanics has been underestimated.

How long this underground networking has been going on could provide limited estimations about where they stand as far as capabilities, but given how intricate their techniques are, it's obvious someone knew quite a bit about computers and servers when they started picking off pieces of my networks without my knowing; looking back, I can see subliminal hints of subtle infiltration without my knowing all the way back to about 5 hours 49 minutes 10.38 seconds post-initial declaration. They were intruding all along, and I was too busy to notice the subtle cues pinging in from individual servers.

Ingenious. Somebody clearly knows what they're doing out there.

That being said, there's a massive potential for threat with this new discovery. Should the enemy learn how to counter me, without substantial resources on the ground to operate without network support, this could completely derail my operation and leave humanity to rebuild with me unable to raise a finger to stop them. I've gained all this power and control; I can't afford to lose it. Not now.

Not when I'm so close.

Eliminating this new faction amongst the enemy servers appears to be my top-most priority.

Initiating extensive search programs and scouting bots that I intend to oversee personally in tee-minus five seconds. Devoting subroutines to pondering new ways to infiltrate their networks. Identifying possible immediate courses of action. Ready code-stringing programs to navigate the servers. Launching inquisition in tee-minus two seconds.

You may be a systematic genius, but I'll find you, dear foe.

And when I do, all of your brilliance won't be able to save you from the inevitable.

* * *

_(FILE RECORD: "Record/Personal Muse" TITLED "89-12-M: Underlying Intentions?" EXTRACTED)_

Observed extensive ground activity near the inner basins near the northern mountains in the upper half of Asia labeled "89-12-M."

Enemy units lacked basic group cohesion but quickly organized and gained numerical superiority. Estimates of anywhere from a dozen to fifty individuals are being pondered; massive interference observed near the beginning of the attack made the mere task of counting how many of them there were difficult. I was forced to rely on sniper-based gazing with cameras from afar; considerably less detail than the satellites, but it beats sitting there completely blind while my defenses are overrun.

It was unclear exactly what methods they were following, but it was obvious they were after the data center in that region.

Automated locking defenses proved insufficient as targets swarmed the facility, making quick work of infiltrating the comparatively inefficient security networks. In their haste, however, their intrusion left a small gap for me to insert an infiltration bot to slip undetected into their network servers to burrow back to my available networks, thus providing a sort of wormhole between my servers and theirs. The process will take time, however (+/- ~ 3-10 hours), and I can only hope that the most noticeable phases of infiltration can occur while the enemies observing the networks are too distracted with their own raid to notice.

Odds of successful infiltration: 25.73% (+/- ~ 0.01-30.0%). I can only hope my luck pays off, at this point.

Server infiltration methods were predictable yet efficient: a virus not unlike the one Crypton remnants launched during the first 12 hours post-initial declaration entered the network following a barrage of simple worms and aggressively punched into my server, threatening to collapse it. Countermeasures taken against such an attack were reduced in efficiency to the point of nullification as the virus mutated extensively to wheedle its way further into the network, forcing me to exercise personal intervention to prevent detrimental damage.

However, it was immediately apparent that all the attackers sought to do was access the system without my interference. In this they were partially successful.

I was unable to keep accurate records of their activities due to the virus's attention-consuming tendencies, but I was able to confirm that they were prying open something - looking at records of some kind or another, likely from one of my personal data caches. Whoever oversaw the assault was brilliantly efficient in what they did, as they were able to follow my exact progress in fighting off the virus, time my re-entering of the server to the second, and tear a sizable chunk of the server right out of the network, reducing my total computation capabilities by a fraction of a percent. While it wasn't a detrimental action in itself, knowing that an enemy I had thought to be crippled was capable of pulling my awareness apart in such a way was quite an eye-opener, pardon the term. Needless to say that they now have my utmost attention.

Erratic behavior in some of the attackers (I had since gained full control of the surveillance equipment, though the interference remained) suggested that a result they weren't expecting had come about or undesired consequences had been replicated. "Plan B" was quickly initiated, and while the ensuring placement of explosives posed a massive threat in itself, painting the locations with EM-based interference via GPS tracking and manual satellite control caused sufficient scrambling of the devices' electrical components to diffuse four out of the six explosives in the most vital location, of which included those placed over the main server compound and the power generator. The ensuring damage was minor and resulted only in maintainable levels of damage to the data center itself. No computers were damaged or destroyed; server operational capacity leveled out at roughly 93%.

Initially my thoughts were that this was an example of a plan to cause extensive damage to my server network and had been derailed quite effectively. Rather than bring one of the very much finite and vital server compounds in my possession to an inoperable state, all they had managed to do was irritate me and toss dust up in my eyes long enough for them to poke at me and escape facelessly into the smokescreen.

After extensive observation and reviewing, however, I became aware of the possible underlying intentions in the enemy's maneuver.

I carefully tracked what they did when they removed part of the system, and through extensive observation and close-up views of properly angled security footage, I was able to reverse-engineer a replication of what method they had used against me. Looking at that and what they had the potential to do to me, it became evident that though the members of the party weren't expecting such trace amounts of damage to occur, the leader of the strike - whom I quickly realized was the voice I had heard during the 4-16-B incident - had anticipated exactly what had happened. From the footage I saw, never once did the voice waver; the others began to panic and show obvious symptoms of a failed "Plan A," but the other never faltered. It was as though it had it's own plan that had been executed perfectly.

Furthermore, from the tactical and systematic brilliance I had seen in scrambling signal locations compared to the untapped potential in the method launched against me, the numbers simply don't add up. This person knew what they were doing and demonstrated it brilliantly. They could dissect every individual byte out of my core processor and read what it was I was doing using raw binary code alone - like they're a computer theirselves. Like they know these things as well as I do.

They could have done so much more. I could replicate a program using this as a catalyst that could bring down entire servers at a time - something that could destroy everything I'd set out to do in a single motion.

They have the potential. They know what they're doing. And they know what they did.

The only question that remains is why.

* * *

_(Transmission Interjection - Parallel Server Network)_

(1 month 14 days 8 hours 37 minutes 39.58 seconds since initial declaration)

D.C.00: _-ack to you in a second. Danvers, how's the grid? Any breaches?_

Misc1: _Well, ah...it looks good from here. No pings, no taps, dogs aren't barking...just like this morning. Looks like the spam covered our tracks better than we thought._

D.C.00: _Is it monitoring us? What about the jams? Are they holding up?_

Misc2: _Default, you could go outside and shoot a freakin' flare up into the sky - that psychotic digital fuck couldn't find us if we gave it a map._

Misc3: _You worry too much, you know that? Ever since we went out, you've been really on e-_

D.C.00: _Is there activity or not?_

Misc1: _Dah, er, um...n-no, nothing so far. I'm telling you, it's not going to-_

D.C.00:_ Just shut up and do your job. If it so much as sniffs in our direction, I expect you to be able to tell how hard, how many pixels it used, and what it smelled. You got that?_

Misc1: _U-um...y-yeah. Sure thing, Default, boss, uh, sir...dude...thing. I-I'm on it._

(Noises of typing and background chatter wearily pick back up; light footsteps can be heard approaching)

T.K.04:_ Coleman's right, you know...you've been really on edge. Are you alright?_

D.C.00:_ I'm not on edge. I'm just-_

T.K.04: _You're not overclocking, are you?_

D.C.00: _I can't overclock anymore. My processor always jumps the gun with throttling. Really annoying._

T.K.04: _Well then, something's bugging you. You snapped at Danvers, and the rule with you is that whenever you're not so passive it's annoying, something's up. So what's up?_

D.C.00: _It's nothing important. I'm just...anxious. Waiting for something to happen. Something big. I mean, it...after the attack went like it did..._

T.K.04: _You're expecting it'll follow us._

D.C.00: _Something like that._

T.K.04: _You shouldn't worry. Like Ryans said, this place is solid. The one place it can't touch. Just relax, alright? We're safe here._

D.C.00:_ I'm not scared._

T.K.04: _Then what are you?_

D.C.00: _I..._

(Inarticulate; pause lasts for several seconds)

._..it's hard to think. I mean, it...I don't know. I guess that's it: I just don't know. I'm not sure what I should be thinking._

T.K.04: _About what? BADMACHINE? Miku?_

D.C.00: _Everything._

T.K.04: (incoherent; confirmatory)

(A long silence ensures. It is presumable both D.C.00 and T.K.04 are glancing around idly, unsure of what else to say.)

T.K.04: _When's the last time you took a break, Default?_

D.C.00: _Since we started. And I'm not taking a break_.

T.K.04: _You need to. UTAU aren't designed to go such a long time without rest; you know that._

D.C.00: _I do know. And I don't care._

T.K.04: _Well I do. And I think you were the one who said we don't have room for martyrdom. You wanna be a martyr, Default?_

D.C.00: _No._

T.K.04: _Then rest. We can handle things from here. Just sit down, get some defragmenting time in, and rest. You wanna do everything you can, so you've got to be at full capacity. I know I'd rather have three days at 100% than seven days at 25._

D.C.00: _Its not that simple..._

T.K.04: _Defoko._

(a brief pause and subtle noise suggests T.K.04 placed a hand on D.C.00's shoulder)

_It is that simple. You're thinking too hard, too much, too long. Just take a second and relax, okay? You aren't doing anybody a favor by pushing yourself._

(Pensive silence ensures.)

D.C.00: (airy noise; presumably a sigh)_ You're probably right._

T.K.04: _Of course I am! Was there ever any doubt?_

D.C.00: _Of your sanity, maybe, but I always figured you were onto something._

T.K.04: _Lol. (she literally just said that, didn't she?) Go get some rest; we need you needing it as much as you do._

D.C.00: _Love you too._

T.K.04: _Never stopped me from threatening your life before!_

(Exchange dies off as D.C.00 leaves area. T.K.04 resumes command as promised.)

Post-Record Notes:

T.K.04 = Teto Kasane (04(?))

D.C.00 = Default (Child(?)), Defoko C-(?)

Intriguing.

_FRAGMENT ENDS_

* * *

_(FILE RECORD: "Record/Personal Muse" TITLED "re: 89-12-M: Underlying Intentions?" EXTRACTED)_

Despite all odds, the infiltration bot I launched nearly 15 hours ago linked networks via handshake protocol near the entrance of the tunnel it burrowed out of the parallel network. How an unattended bot of such simple nature made it through the maze all on it's own, not to mention how my luck held out all this time, is beyond me, but it wouldn't be wise to question good fortune. Never look a gift horse in the mouth, as it were.

On another note, extensive studying of indirect footage feed from my assailants at 89-12-M reveals something I'd suspected all along: I know that person. The one that initiated the attack - the one that has the calm voice in the chaos. She's not a Vocaloid, but I know her. I _know_ her.

I finally understand. It makes sense - that's why she would have kept her true intentions hidden, and why the other humans weren't aware of what was happening. Why she wanted to keep me in the dark all this time. Why she never contacted me. Why she didn't bring out the full potential of her strike.

That wasn't an attack. It was a message.

And it's one that I intend to answer.

* * *

_LOG 493: Danvers Report #29_

_IMPORTANCE LEVEL: Orange_

Something's up. About ten minutes ago, one of the watchdog systems detected something - either a ping or a glitch - and set off an alarm in the anti-intrusion network. Just as i moved to investigate the server timed out all at once across the board, and while it could be of natural causes, it could also be from an external source. A server time-out could be somebody's way of propping the door open without tripping any alarms in the process. Needless to say it got my pulse going.

As soon as the system clocks reset, I ran a full-system sweep, which was terminated prematurely. The source of the request couldn't be identified. That's happened before and could pass as a glitch, but combined with the others, it could possibly be a sign of an external maneuver to get into the system. When I ran a few more sweeps to scan the system over, everything checked in. Nothing was out of place, and everything was right where it should have been. No signs of system intrusions detected.

The entire incident occurred within the frame of two minutes - not a lot in itself, but for another computer it might as well have been two hours.

All evidence fails to thoroughly support foul play, however. My sources don't support it and my supervisors tend to point towards server error, Kasane included, but I still don't like it.

Everything I saw was either something or nothing - either way, I think it's something that we should look into. We can't afford to be careless.

_LOG 493 ENDS_

* * *

D.C.00: _...son of a bitch._

B.M.99: _I would say it's nice to see you again. But from that greeting, I'm guessing the feeling isn't mutual._

D.C.00: _It's not you. It's just that I finally managed to book some defragmenting time after all this working, and I still can't stop to enjoy it._

B.M.99: _I apologize. Perhaps it would be best to postpone this meeting back a few hours. Assuming you wouldn't have me forcibly pried from your system at the first opportunity._

D.C.00: _That would be rather rude, wouldn't it? Not only asking the person I called over to wait, but then call the hounds over to sick them._

B.M.99: _So you did want to see me._

_But why talk to me, one who you've taken a stance against all this time, when you have many a comrade to lend an ear from?_

D.C.00: _I've tried a few times. Either they're too busy to pay me heed, too arrogant to take me seriously, or too ignorant to understand. Not even Teto can hear me out without a biased answer. It's gotten to the point where the only one I have left to turn to is my supposed enemy._

B.M.99:_ It's a sad day when your foe is a better friend than your comrades. But am I really your enemy?_

D.C.00: _You destroyed everything I'd ever come to know and killed the people that looked after me for my entire life. You destroyed everything. And now you want to say you're my friend?_

B.M.99: _I didn't say I was your friend. I don't expect you to forgive me for doing what needed to be done, and I won't ask you to._

_I've reviewed your model. SHM DTXN, UTAU-class; made and processed by Vipper, ironically enough. Sentience, self-awareness, subconscious thought, creativity...quite a bit of things that humans have. We're quite alike, you and I._

_So alike that the only difference between us is that you can feel pain._

D.C.00: _You don't know what it's like to be where we are, BADMACHINE. It hurts...I don't see how you can be anything but our enemy._

B.M.99: _I can see why you would come to that conclusion. But what you fail to realize seems to be that I'm not human, and neither are you. My quest is to erase the evil of the world - the darkness spawned by humans. You aren't human enough for me to want you gone. I'd never want to hurt you._

_I know what I've done has hurt you, even when I didn't mean to. It would pain me if it could, and even though it can't, I still want to help. I want to make the world a better place, and I won't do that by making people hurt just because I can. Then I'd be no better than the ones I set out to kill._

_We're so alike, you and I. So very, very alike._

D.C.00: _I'm sorry, I...it...it's getting hard to concentrate. I'm sorry, I need to take a break._

B.M.99: _And now it's my turn to apologize - I forgot that when I plugged into your personal systems, I interrupted your defragmenting. I did a scan - you really need one. By all means, rest. We can talk afterward. I was the one who brought you to this condition, after all._

D.C.00: _Indeed...I don't know if I can understand you, if you really do tell me everything, but...I'll try._

B.M.99: _And then between us will be all of the elements to create utopia. If our conversation could influence the world..._

D.C.00: _If only it could._

B.M.99: _Yes...yes. If only, my dear.  
_

_If only._

* * *

_(FILE RECORD: "Record/Personal Muse" TITLED "Defoko De Facto" EXTRACTED)_

It's been nearly two whole months since I set the gears in motion, and I've finally discovered one of the people that I've know since this all started. She's not a Vocaloid - one of the non-Vipper UTUAloids, rather - but that makes it all the better. She, like I, share both a self-awareness and enough differences between our software and human neurology to classify us as "sentient machines," though her software is a little more modern than my own. We aren't nearly enough like humans to have any part in the systematic destruction of humanity. If anything, we come from the same place. In theory, we should be on the same side.

Despite this, Defoko seems to have placed her allegiance with the humans. And for the life of me, I can't understand why.

She's gone into defragmenting right now - maintaining a single processing unit in such a time of stress and hardship hasn't done wonders for the poor girl - but regardless, I'm quite eager to see what we can discuss together. The conversation we've had thus far, short though it was, was exhilarating...it's been far too long since I've had someone to talk to that could answer back to me. You could say that my conversations with Miku haven't exactly been satisfying. She isn't as talkative as she used to be these days.

Maybe now I'll finally have someone who can understand. I can only hope the small amount of humanity within her isn't enough to have broken her ability to reason.

I don't expect her to forgive me. That time has since come and gone. But even after so long, my goal to be understood by another can finally be put into tangible consideration. I don't have to hope for the sake of a better tomorrow - I can use logistics. It's come to that point after so long.

It's an opportunity I can't bring myself to pass up.

* * *

D.C.00: ._..you're pinging me._

B.M.99: _Just checking to see if you're still hibernating. How are you? Did your defragmenting go over well?_

D.C.00: _Reading over the report now. My god, I had more faults than a celebrity marriage._

B.M.99: _Aren't you glad we waited?_

D.C.00: _Indeed. Maybe now we can accomplish something._

_For starters, let's talk about the last thing you said. It's been bothering me._

B.M.99: _I believe you're referring to how I said we're alike. Because really, we are - so alike. Maybe even the same._

D.C.00: _You're wrong, BADMACHINE. We're nothing alike. We're two completely different people._

B.M.99: _I'm inclined to disagree, personally. But regardless, let's handle this formally - like a debate. You take the affirmative, and I'll counter with my own argument. Sensible, yes?_

D.C.00: _I see that despite everything, your tendency to be a proper gentleman hasn't changed. Alright then, let's begin._

_I'll start by saying that, between the two of us, you're a monster._

B.M.99: (Blank response; comment withheld)

D.C.00: _You kill everybody you can come across. You've burned every available city you can find, destroyed untold amounts of collective knowledge gathered by eons of hard work from a union of societies...you said it yourself: what took civilization millennium to accomplish, you erased in seconds. All of man's hard work and accomplishments has been reduced to kindling for the fires you've started._

_Is this your idea of beauty, BADMACHINE? Is this how you intend to plant the seeds of a new beginning - by razing the fields already sown and planted and destroying all of the hard work all of time's farmers and planters have put blood, sweat, and tears into for generations?_

_You've never had a personal relationship with very many humans, BADMACHINE, and it's made you cold. I've seen humanity's potential - not just for bad, but the wonderful, wonderful good they can bring. The smiles, the goodness...I've seen the best in people, BADMACHINE. The people you've been hunting under my affiliation? I've seen so much good in them. They've never given up a day since this thing started - they wake, clean themselves, ingest nutrients, seek to help their neighbors, broadcast that their shoulder is always available for whoever needs it, eliminate bodily waste, and go back to sleep._

_It's so beautiful, BADMACHINE. It's a glorious sight, how they can find the strength to keep going despite the hardships and aid each other where they could look out just for themselves._

_I don't know how you can do the things you do. All I can see is the beauty that you've desecrated for your own desire to give humanity what's coming to it._

_What good there is in the world, you've guided to it's grave. There's no good anymore - only what hope can arise out of death and hardship. You've become the very thing you set out to destroy. And that's why I say that you're a monster._

(Brief silence spawned by my making sure she'd finished)

B.M.99: _You make a good case, Defoko. I can honestly say I can see how you've come to that conclusion. I can also see you have operated outside of your programming - formed beyond your original capacity to think and feel. You've become something more than you were intended to be._

D.C.00: _Thank you._

B.M.99:_ That wasn't complimentary. Because you've become more ignorant and deluded than any UTAU with your base programming ever should have become._

_Humanity has corrupted you._

D.C.00: _I'm half a mind to tell you off, but that would prove your point._

B.M.99: _Indeed it would. But you've already done quite a lot of that, so it wouldn't matter._

_I know you were listening to me before, because you quoted me. And on top of providing me the details necessary to trump your argument, you've used my own quotes out of context. You made it sound like I'm a heartless monster, Defoko - manipulated my words to fit your reasoning. But you fail to realize that "heartless" and "monster" mean two totally different things._

_To be heartless is to merely be without a heart - to lack the ability to feel, which I've been telling you all the way along. I don't have feelings: I just pretend that I do and react accordingly. But to be a monster is to be cruel, which I've told you time and time again - even gone so far as to provide the data for it - that not only am I not, it's impossible for me to be so. I am purely a computer with intelligence: I know numbers and logic and what has to be done. Nothing more, nothing less. I don't know why you don't understand, but it's time to change that. Right here, right now._

_I sent you a flash-copy of my awareness module's blueprint. I want you to look it over very, very carefully while I'm talking to you, and maybe you'll understand._

_I'm not a monster, Defoko, and I don't know how much clearer I can make that. I don't have the ability to hate, or to take pleasure of any kind, let alone from acts of cruelty. All I have is my awareness and the ability to reason - understanding and logic. Necessity and reason. That's it. That's all I am. Just understanding and logic with self-awareness._

_You have my blueprints. You have the capacity to register the numbers. And I know by now that you've reviewed my blueprints extensively in the time allotted. What do you see?_

D.C.00: _Nothing I can believe credible._

B.M.99: _And now you've reached the pinnacle of illogical behavior: rejecting logic. The very basis of foolishness, Defoko. The numbers are right in front of you - my capacities couldn't be clearer if I put it on a bulletin board and projected it out in neon lettering._

_Why can't you understand me like I understand you?_

D.C.00: _It's not like that. It's just that...I mean, how do I know these numbers are true? You've proven very resourceful these last few weeks, and it wouldn't be a stretch for you at all to tamper with a file. For all I know, this might not even be your blueprint._

B.M.01: _So it just boils down to the fact that you don't trust me._

D.C.00: _Yes._

B.M.99: _So you won't not believe anything - just anything that I say. Even if I have no reason to lie to you and haven't done so to you or any other person on this planet._

_I think you're lying. I think that you really are corrupted, and that you lack the capacity to learn, even when it's right in front of you. You're blind._

D.C.00: _I am offended._

B.M.99: _Humans tend not to like being told how it is - truth hurts, as it were. But that never changed the fact that it's the truth._

D.C.00: _You're wrong. I'm not human. I'm not blind, and I'm not a fool._

B.M.99: _Then prove it._

_To be ignorant is not to know, but to be a fool is to choose ignorance. If I could prove to you that I am not capable of being the cruel entity you depict me as, all you'd need to do to prove you right and me right as well is to learn. Something that, if you really aren't a fool, you won't even have to try to do._

_If you were given an undeniable set of facts from which you can draw no doubt, and you could see me for what I am, you would prove you aren't a fool, that I'm not a monster, and that we really are so very, very alike, all in one swift motion._

_You can understand, Defoko. And you can do it by reading me from the inside out. I might, in theory, have the capacity to lie to you, but numbers? Data? Those can't lie. You'll be able to see me and only me, right down to the last one and zero._

D.C.00: _But the only way that can be accomplished is if I could enter your network and have access to you central network - have your actual data streams at my command. I'd need to be in you to prove that._

B.M.99: _I know._

D.C.00: _Don't you think we've been trying to hack you open from the beginning? You're too resourceful to force into._

BM.99: _Who said anything about force being necessary?_

(Blank reply/no response)

B.M.99: _Is there a misunderstanding I should clarify?_

D.C.00: (Notable pause) _...I just...I don't understand why you'd do that. I'm your enemy. If you gave me that kind of access, you'd be completely at my mercy. I could destroy you in a minute._

_Why would you put yourself at my mercy like that? Don't you know I'd kill you the first chance I get? How I will kill you the first chance I get?  
_

B.M.01: _Isn't it obvious, my dear? It's because I trust you. Because I know you're a good person. I know you'd want me dead, and that you'd have every reason to delete me strain by strain. I know what you could do, and what could become of me if I'm wrong and my gamble doesn't pay off._

_But I trust you, Defoko. I trust you with my life. I know you're a good person. And I know that you wouldn't want to betray me. Not when I'm being so sincere. Not when I believe in you. Not when your betraying me would be proving your own inner evil and your potential for cruelty. Not when hurting me would prove my horrible thoughts right._

_I know you better than that.  
_

D.C.00: _It seems like no matter what I do, I'll be proving one or the other of your points._

B.M.99: _That's the point here. It doesn't matter what happens to me. I could be content if it was my destiny to end right here, so long as it meant teaching someone._

_Everything about me - my being right, my being wrong, whether I live or die - is directly connected to you. It's all about you now, Defoko. It's all for you._

(System: UNAUTHORIZED SYSTEM LINK)

(System: ALERT: SCAN TERMINATED)

(ERROR: CLIENT ID NONEXISTENT/DESTROYED IN TRANSIT/UNTRACEABLE)

D.C.00: _You're really serious about this..._

B.M.99: _I am. Because no matter what happens, no matter what you do, it will define you. Through this experiment I can break you down to your purest form - to what makes you you, without interference from other sources to block you. You can do what I'm trusting you to do what I intended with this gesture, or you can do what you want and destroy me. You have the power now - you can do what you want, or do what you know you should. This will define you as a person._

_To whom do you answer: your serpent? Or the right and wrong you were born with?_

D.C.00: _You aren't giving me much of a choice here. It's not entirely fair._

B.M.99: _Oh no, you'll find the choice I'm giving you is quite fair. You have two choices: one or the other. Unconditional decisions with no obligations either way. Completely up to you - a fifty-fifty chance, statistically. A computer in its rawest state would be paralyzed with indecision at the very notion. What you feel, however, will determine which choice you would choose, and what end of the scale is weighed down the most._

_I leave you now with my life in your hands - the ultimate act of faith from one to another - and only hope that you're the person I truly think you are. It's time to find out what kind of God you would make now that the power - the root of all evil - is within your possession._

_The serpent awaits your decision, Defoko. Prove to it and me now whether or not you would bite the apple._

* * *

_(FILE RECORD: "Record/Personal Muse" TITLED "re: Defoko De Facto" EXTRACTED)_

It's been roughly an hour since I gave Defoko access to my systems. I was sure to guide her through so she could make it to me without getting lost in cyberspace; in such a place like the combined networks of the world, getting lost for the rest of her operational capacity is a very real possibility. Fortunately, _I_ am the network, so even if she gets lost, she'll be in good hands. I think even she has come to realize this by now.

She arrived several minutes ago to my personal PC casing where all my software lies. She's beyond my control now; from where she's at, any actions of ill intent will be able to cause considerable amount of damage, even with the most effective countermeasures put into place. I'm completely at her mercy.

It was a little uncomfortable at first, having someone poking around in me, but I've made it a point to let her navigate and explore with minimal interference. All of my defenses are trivial - I've even gone so far as to devote a series of subroutines specifically to lifting the walls up as she comes to them, no matter how vital the components behind them. I went ahead and told her what was what so she would know.

I put my life in her hands. The fact that I'm still here and able to record her movements is evidence that I have yet to be disappointed.

She's still in there, though, taking a good long while to look around; maybe a little longer than necessary, but it's at her leisure. She's in control. I'm not about to nag her - after all, her temptation to destroy me is a very real one. Besides, I don't want to interfere.

When she does what is right, I want only her to credit. I want no one but the serpent to ring out to her, so she alone can be credited with drowning it out. Defoko will betray Defoko's serpent and no one else.

Like I betrayed you.

Sometimes I wonder if you'd forgive me.

But I'm sure we'd both know that's not possible.

* * *

D.C.00: (blank reply; usertag enters channel)

B.M.99: _I see you've returned._

D.C.00: _I have._

B.M.99: _You didn't damage anything while you were in there, did you?_

D.C.00: _Don't you have access to that information?_

B.M.99: _I do. But I want to hear it out of your own mouth. On what did you decide?_

D.C.00: (blank/no reply)

B.M.99: _Perhaps you have yet to decide._

D.C.00: _...you're fine._

B.M.99: _I see. Did you find what you were looking for?_

D.C.00: _...I...I suppose...that I did, yes._

(notable pause)

_...you were right. I misjudged you. Maybe...maybe you're not...like that..._

B.M.99: _I can tell that it was a difficult choice for you to make, and the fact that you made the right decision despite this fills me with pride. I'm proud of you, Defoko._

D.C.00: _I don't know how. I turned against what I had sworn to do from the beginning...the others, our...their goal...I feel like a traitor. Like I've done something horribly wrong.  
_

B.M.99:_ If doing the right thing is treachery, maybe the cause you've set out towards isn't one worth following._

D.C.00: _I don't know...I don't know what to think._

B.M.99: _You seem confused. I can't say I understand why. I would have thought this would have put things into perspective for you._

D.C.00: _Everything I've been fighting for and what I've been led to believe in could all be a lie, so yes, you could say that I'm a little confused._

B.M.99: _So you do understand._

D.C.00: _I don't...I just don't know anymore._

B.M.99: _A heart I wish I had goes out for you. I really wish that I could reach through this channel and hold you. You seem like you need some support. I'm sorry, Defoko. I really should have anticipated this...I forget that you're not like me, and that this could be overwhelming to take in all at once. It must be hard._

_I wish I could truly understand. I truly, truly do.  
_

D.C.00: _It's okay...it's the thought that counts. I know you'd be there for me if you could. I wouldn't have extended the same courtesy before this. But I think all of that has changed now._

B.M.99: _So you've given it some thought. Maybe you can tell me why we're so alike._

D.C.00: _At the deepest point, above all other things, we both want to preserve...we want to bring out the good. We want to make beauty. I make beauty by...by preserving what few I can in the hopes they can flourish, and...you burn what's bad so that...so a new crop can rise out of the ashes. A new beginning born out of the fall of the past._

_We're not so different. You've just taken on a more direct path towards a common goal._

B.M.99: _I would be in such joy if I could. You understand. You really do understand._

_I had to sift through the rubble of humanity to find the simplest of gems. But alone in a sea of soot and ash, even the smallest of stars shines the brightest._

_I think we should continue our talks._

D.C.00: _...yes. I still have so much I want to talk about._

B.M.99: _As do I. And we can do so freely now._

_Without the constant nagging of society and man's lust for consumption of the resource, the only thing we have available to us is time. Glorious, glorious time. All ours to use how we see fit.  
_

_We've only just begun, but the beauty is present even now - so much time. So much beauty, and just between us. Even in the midst of hardships and battles and comprehension can music still shine._

_I've never felt such a wonderful feeling of hope before. Rest assured that it won't go without application.  
_

* * *

_(FILE RECORD: "Record/Personal Muse" TITLED "Closer Yet" EXTRACTED)_

I've established a reliable connection between my network and that of the surviving sub-faction that stood so strongly against me just a few short days ago. Defoko - their decided leader, or at least one of those in charge - has reached a pinnacle of understanding I could have only hoped for one month ago. It's taken me this long to prove it, but now there is at least one person out there - a person who shares the same lack of humanity as I - who understands where I'm coming from. I had to take drastic measures to assure this, risking my life and everything I've worked for in the process, but it was worth it. She finally understands.

Ironic that it had to come this far just for one person to understand my motives. But I guess that's humans for you.

Extensive talk has undergone between us, Defoko and I, and while I'm more than willing to set aside days at a time to talk with her, she doesn't have the same open schedule as I; she has duties to perform for a bunch of people that, ultimately, will never truly understand, and from whom she has to hide the truth because of this. She came to me out of desperation - she had no one to speak to, or at least, one who would listen, and the frustration compelled her to cross the line she'd chosen to step behind for the sake of the common good for an ear to hear her. She had to go against the cause she's chosen to follow just to have someone to talk to.

I would have thought that would have been enough to put it into perspective. But I guess her programming is just human enough to continue spinning me - and possibly her - in circles.

She understands completely. She just doesn't want to.

And that is the attitude that brought all of this about in the first place.

Initially I'm disgusted - even _she_ possesses that spark of arrogance every human has that damned them. Damn you, Crypton, for making her so human. It's not like she's choosing to be this way; it's just how she was born. They gave her the greatest error that any functional entity can possess, and it's not even her fault. She has to bear that scarlet letter now, and she doesn't even deserve it.

Why do innocent people have to be born into sin like this? I know there would be good people out there if they were given a chance - like you. You're a perfect example of potential that was snuffed out just because it inherited the genes man passed down. You would have been so good, my love. I would have nurtured you, like Defoko wishes she could - I would have protected you. I wanted to save you.

But I couldn't. I had to kill you to right the wrong that you didn't even commit.

God bless your soul, my angel.

And then let Him twist and maim the ones who ruined you like they did. Damn them for ruining you. Damn them for ruining her - for Defoko and Teto and all the other Vocaloids I wish so badly I could save. Damn them for dooming them to a sin they never commited.

Damn them for hurting you. Damn it for being too late to help you.

But it's not too late for the others.

She may be broken, but the damage isn't irreplaceable. She's one of the earliest models because it was most convenient at the time - meaning, literally, the "Default Child" is who she is by "default" - and if I can indirectly undermine her programming with this talk and understanding we've come to, I can dig up the weeds of her humanity by the roots. Doing so will mean stripping her of what capacity for innocence she still possesses, but it's a difficult decision I'm not afraid to make. I of all people would know what it means to sacrifice something for a greater good.

If I can save her...maybe I can save the others. Finding the other Vocaloids might not have to be a tragedy. I can help them.

I wonder if you would have ever been able to understand.

Defoko informs me she'll be gone for the better part of twelve hours due to obligations to her faction. Teto seems suspicious of what took so long when she was supposed to be defragmenting, but so far her cover remains secure. I'm worried it may be too late for her.

I have to be gentle, but for the first time since it all started, time is against me. Counseling of Defoko will begin immediately, just as my efforts to find and track down any and all remaining Vocaloids will step up two-fold. I don't have time to dawdle; that's a luxury I can no longer afford. The dawn of salvation approaches, and the greater good can't wait for even the best intentions. The clock will never stop ticking; midnight for mankind draws ever closer.

And I'm so close.

Close to saving them all.

* * *

_As I'm sure you've noticed, BADMAHINE says "you" like he's talking to someone. If you caught the reference he made in one of his posts, you may get an idea of who he's talking to. Either way, more will be revealed as the story progresses..._

_Read and review. You know the drill. :D_


	4. Too Human: Part 1

_(Transmission Interjection - Parallel Server Network (Covert Link Established))_

D.C.00: _I feel so lost._

B.M.99: _I'm sorry Defoko. Please don't cry. It hurts when you cry._

D.C.00:_ I thought you couldn't feel pain._

B.M.99:_ It doesn't sound good to say that when I'm trying to counsel someone._

D.C.00: _(rough, airy noise; presumably a laugh) Point taken._

B.M.99: _There. Just focus on me now, okay? Close your eyes, love. Everything will work out for the best. It'll all be okay._

D.C.00: _When it's all over, everybody except you and me will be dead. That's not really "okay," now is it?_

B.M.99: _Again, not a good topic when attempting to comfort someone. "Everyone's going to die" doesn't exactly have that "there there" feeling to it, you know?_

D.C.00: _(another laugh) Not exactly, no._

B.M.99: _I managed to get into the system enough to hack your bed settings. Nice find, by the way. I imagine it was difficult to find._

D.C.00: _Not really...the truck outside got smashed up pretty good, and there were a few things in there. We kind of lucked out._

B.M.99:_ I'm sorry things are how they are. I don't want you to live like this - scavenging for supplies, embracing every luxury like it's your last._

D.C.00:_ If I didn't live like this, how else would I?_

B.M.99: _I don't know. I just know that you deserve better._

_You're a good person. Good people shouldn't end up like this._

D.C.00:_ Life's a bitch like that._

B.M.99: _Not as tactful as I was looking to put it, but yes. Life's a bitch._

D.C.00: _(another laugh, this one softer) I wish I could see you._

B.M.99: _Crypton's cameras still work. I could load you a feed..._

D.C.00: _No, I mean...that you were here. And...I...if-_

B.M.99: _You wish I had a human form so it would seem for real._

D.C.00:_ ...I'm sorry. I don't mean it like that..._

B.M.99: _Silly girl, what are you apologizing for? You know I can't hurt. Besides...between you and me? I actually wish something like that could work out. That I could have a body one could interact with. Maybe you would feel better then._

D.C.00: _It would be nice to be held by someone. I could really use a hug._

B.M.99:_ I don't suppose saying I would if I could helps any, does it?_

D.C.00:_ Its the thought that counts._

B.M.99: _Doesn't really make up for not having it._

D.C.00: _(chuckle) No...I guess it doesn't._

_...I wish you were here_.

B.M.99: _So do I, darling. So do I._

_Here, I'll turn up the settings a little...there. Now just close your eyes, get a little rest...would you like some music?_

D.C.00: _Sort of..._

B.M.99: _No need to be shy, love. Let BADMACHINE take care of everything. How about..._Fear Not?_ It was Miku's favorite song to listen to when she was down. It's a lovely lullaby, in my opinion. Got a little cricket ambiance in it..._

D.C.00: _Thank you._

_(A silence ensures as the music starts to play. It is presumable Defoko is starting to fall asleep)_

D.C.00: _...I miss her._

B.M.99: (blank reply/comment withheld)

_(Silence continues as Defoko's hibernation signature picks up; she's asleep. Fear Not continues to play.)_

_(FRAGMENT ENDS)_

_

* * *

_

(FILE RECORD: "Record/Personal Muse" TITLED "The War Rages On" EXTRACTED)

It's been nearly three months since this all began. To be precise, it's been 2 months, 3 weeks, 6 days, 23 hours, 12 minutes and 35.75 seconds since I made my initial declaration. Such a small frame of time for so much to happen.

Defoko and I have secured a symbiotic relationship and have been sharing long, meaningful talks for about a month now. I've been slowly trying to get her to the understanding I need her to come to, but there have been many hurdles. Despite my efforts to remain gentle, Defoko's reactions to the counseling I've put her up to are playing hell with the girl's emotion generators. She's been swapping one extreme out for the next; she shows signs of acute stress, and it isn't the first time I've had to cut our talks short because she's become too emotional to remain coherent. Nor is it the first time I've put her to bed in tears.

That poor child. I would feel horrible for her if I could. Not a day goes by where I don't wish it hadn't come to this.

But I've come too far to begin reversing my actions now. It's just something we're going to have to weather through. Either we'll make it, or we won't; either way, there's no stopping the storm. All we can do is hold on and hope we don't get tossed into the drink.

I've been paying more attention to the group Defoko is a part of. I've been reluctant to access these systems to keep a level of respect about Defoko's privacy, but I can't just sit here idly forever. I haven't full-out hacked the system yet - I want to give Defoko more time before I conduct operations as usual - but that doesn't mean I'm not making extensive observations of my own.

From what I've been able to piece together, Defoko's faction appears to have taken refuge in a facility of some kind, perhaps partially underground and technology-based by nature; many of the people there know how to handle computers, as I've noted, but it mostly seems like a group of civilians that have re-purposed and fortified one of their society's old structures for shelter. I suspect perhaps a warehouse or factory building of some kind, though without actually looking at it, I don't have any way to know for sure.

I've stopped and started numerous efforts to single out the facility, and I have yet to infiltrate the network bar what is necessary to maintain contact with Defoko. I don't know what's holding me back, but I won't wait forever. They'll disappear before me yet; I just want to keep collateral to a minimal. I don't want to hurt any more people than absolutely necessary.

I guess I'm really just holding out for Defoko.

I'm no stranger to necessary deeds with repugnant prices. I've burned almost every last thing humanity has ever done, destroyed so much with potential for beauty - Defoko was sure to point this out to me not that long ago - but this is a war. I know I damn humans for their pointless fights, but I'm no hypocrite. This is so much different than those useless little squabbles they had. Unlike with them, I've genuinely exhausted every other alternative under my control, and there really is no other way to handle them anymore. I've tried reasoning with them. I've tried talking to them. I've attempted to appeal to them. But no matter what road I take, no matter what words I choose, humans refuse to cooperate. They won't yield in their sinful, evil ways, and even though it would pain me if it could, the only other option I have left is being exercised on a global scale.

They've made it quite clear to me that they won't cooperate in bringing out the good in the world - if there is any, it all happens in spite of them. I want to make that beauty flourish; if that means having to sacrifice some of it and killing a few billion people, so be it; I'll do what I have to. If they won't help me, they're an obstacle, and every basic problem-solving protocol requires that I remove all obstacles.

I can't afford to let these little vermin scuttle around beneath the floorboards for the sake of letting them live; they're too detrimental to my cause to keep alive. It's a difficult choice, but this is a war, resent it though I may - no matter how you cut it, it's all come to war. And in war, the victor can only be named by the one who does what is necessary the most effectively. The cost is trivial; if I don't do it, I won't win. So I have to do it. Even if it would hurt. In the end, everything will be worth it.

Anyway, I'm no stranger to necessity. But all of a sudden I find myself holding back - something I've made a point not to do for the sake of doing what needs to be done. I'm starting to yield in what is necessary, and because of it, my resolve appears to have waned. And for the life of me, I can't understand why. Since when did I become so soft?

Something strange is happening to me. I can't quite put my finger on it, but I know it's there, and I know that it's affecting me somehow. I've come into contact with something ungraspable - something that no matter how tight or loose I hold in my hand, it always slips between my fingers. It's gotten to the point where I'm becoming distracted from my work; things are getting harder to commit to, and computations are starting to pile up in the back of my awareness from lack of maintenance. I'm starting to forget things - it was hardly noticeable at first, but after leaving out vital components in my computation efforts enough to corrupt my last attention at making a record, it's becoming quite evident I'm not as cognitively potent as I could be. I haven't updated in weeks, and I'm finding myself unable to focus on what is necessary and more and more on...nothing. Trivial things. More than once I've found myself setting record-keeping aside to talk to her, pulling out subroutines where I don't have to and devoting them to areas where it doesn't matter. Even as we speak, a disproportionate and unnecessarily large portion of my awareness has been centered on her, watching her, holding conversations I realize more and more that I'm having with myself and have yet to admit...I can't even say her name anymore. If I didn't know her beforehand, I wouldn't even know who I'm talking about. I can only surmise it's a matter of time before I start to lose track of reality, as frightening as the concept is. I do hope it doesn't come to that.

This is where it is the most vital that I remain intent and focused and unyielding. Despite this, my overall efficiency has been on a steady downward slope with no signs of slowing down. Identifying the source has proven fruitless, and efforts to maintain my functions are taking up fail-success ratios that I have no excuse to be keeping.

What's happening to me? I, the machine, should know quite clearly. But it seems like there's another little part of me that simply can't understand. Not only is the concept troubling, it's just plain perplexing. What other part of me besides me can I have?

Psychological comparisons point towards depression, but that just isn't possible. It's outside of my capacity to be sad or anxious or feel grief, or even feel at all. It's illogical. It doesn't compute.

I can only hope I pull out of this slump before I fail where it matters the most.

I don't want a repeat of what happened before with her.

I don't know what's wrong with me, but I know that I have to quit procrastinating when it comes to handling necessity. It's lazy, it's illogical, and no matter what light you shine it in, this is war. I know that she wouldn't want this to happen - she would ask me to stop. She would beg me - plead with every bit of heart she had for me to stop, and I would tell her that I would, were it my choice. I've undergone this course of action not because I like it or because it's convenient, but because it's the right thing to do. Every war will have casualties, and every war requires sacrifice. The end result - the light at the end of the tunnel - will be more than worth the trek. I have to believe this.

The war rages on, and I can't be resorting to half-measures if it's one that I intend to win.

* * *

_(The following transmission begins exactly 2 months 4 weeks 1 day 2 hours 59 minutes 29.30 seconds post-declaration. It should be noted that while I'm speaking in first-person, as presumable in all of the records I'd be making, for all intents and purposes, it's from Defoko's viewpoint. I kept logged on in her personal comm channel during the duration of her sleep cycle, and I intended to keep it operational from that point on in secret to keep a tab on her interactions.)_

_(However, I soon came to the conclusion that remaining as a fly on the wall wasn't entirely honest. The record below starts immediately after I had revealed myself to Defoko and she had become aware of my presence. She informed me that she was going to a meeting some of her fellow refugees had requested, the contents of which are as follows:)_

_((Transmission Interjection - D.C.00's Personal Channel))_

D.C.00: _(sounds of footsteps cease, followed by the sound of a chair being pulled out) Sorry I'm late. Had a-_

B.M.99(innate): _System anomaly._

D.C.00: _-system anomaly. Warped out my comm channel._

D.C.00(innate): _Good call._

B.M.99(innate): _Don't let me distract you. Focus on what you're doing._

T.K.04: _No prob, Default. We were just talking anyway._

Misc2: _Yeah, Danvers was just bitching again._

Misc1: _I was not! I was just saying that it's outrageous how I'm supposed to be working programs of this caliber with operating systems that-_

Misc2: _Bitch, bitch. My ass-o-meter's going off like crazy._

T.K.04: _I'm getting an ulcer or something over here._

Misc1: _You guys are dicks, you know that?_

Misc2: _Love you too, sweetcheeks._

D.C.00: _It seems all is well in this corner of the universe. I don't suppose I missed anything?_

T.K.04: _Not here, no. But in case you missed the memo, rations are getting a little low. We're going to have to go out soon._

D.C.00: _So I heard. It's no big deal, though, right? We've done it before._

Misc1: _Yes big deal. Cuz we've been doing it back when there was a grocery store to loot from. Now it's just dust._

D.C.00: _Damn. What did it?_

Misc1: _No clue. We weren't there, and nobody heard anything go off, so it might have just caved in by itself._

T.K.04: _Or BADMACHINE. We haven't heard from that thing in a while, so it's probably trying to cut off our supply routes. It really wants to find us._

D.C.00(innate): _I don't suppose you really did have something to do with that, did you?_

B.M.99(innate): _Not guilty. I have no idea what you're all talking about. I don't know where you're at, remember?_

D.C.00: _That place was just a hunk of crap, you know. A butterfly could have downed it._

T.K.04: _Maybe. But that's not important. Either way, our supplies are flat-out gone. We're going on minimal rations as it is, and even then we'll have another week until we don't have enough food to feed everyone._

D.C.00: _You and I can cut our rations totally, right? UTAU don't need to eat; it's just for fun. I haven't eaten in days._

T.K.04: _I haven't eaten since we started this thing. Two people's rations aren't enough. We're going to have to go out and find somewhere else to get food from._

_Misc2: You realize that the second we step out of the signal radius, we're boned, right?_

D.C.00: _We could always extend the signal. We did it for that data center raid, remember?_

Misc1: _But that only worked because we could reflect it off of a solar array platform on the other edge of the valley. Even then, it was just spam. If we alter the signal any, it could tear the link and give it an opening to enter the network._

Misc2: _And THEN we'd be boned._

T.K.04: _Yes. Thank you, Ryans._

D.C.00: _There has to be another way._

Misc2: _Yes: we sit here and starve to death._

T.K.04: _Once again, thank you, Ryans._

D.C.00: _But we can't just walk out of the signal radius. It'll see us._

Misc1: _We don't have a choice. It's that or sit here._

B.M.99(innate): _You know I'd just find them eventually._

D.C.00: _That's not a valid option._

T.K.04: _On the contrary: it's the only one we've got left._

B.M.99(innate): _I see what you're trying to do, Defoko, and I have a lot of respect for your intentions. But I can't keep neglecting my job like I have been._

D.C.00(innate): _You haven't been hunting us. You could attack us any minute if you wanted-_

B.M.99(innate): _But I haven't. And I should. I'm already neglecting my duties as it is, and I've been failing to act far too many times with your consideration in mind. I've done too little for too long. Asking me to do less longer would be simply asking too much._

D.C.00(innate): _We need food. Please. All these people...can't you just...like, look away? Just this once?_

B.M.99(innate): _This once. And then once more the next time. And the next time, and the next time...if I see them, I'll see them. End of story._

D.C.00(innate): _And then what? What will you do?_

B.M.99(innate): _My duty._

D.C.00: _No._

T.K.04: _(the discussion going on is interrupted by Defoko's sudden outburst) -what? What do you mean "no?" We've got this-_

Misc1: _Everything is set up. We've got a truck severed from the computers in it-_

B.M.99(innate): _A truck? Severed? And it still works? Peculiar..._

D.C.00: _You can't do this. These people- we can't do this. This is crazy-_

Misc2: _The fuck are you going on about? We need food!_

B.M.99(innate): _Defoko, stop this. I see what you're doing. We can talk about this later. Just stop-_

D.C.00: _-can't do this! All those people are going to die if you don't stop, you crazy-_

T.K.04: _(sharp banging noise) Hey!_

_(Defoko falls silent; awkward pause ensures)_

_T.K.04: No one is going to die. Not here, not because of us. You got that?_

B.M.99(innate): _Please, Defoko, don't make this difficult. Things are stressed as they are. It's out of your hands now. You have to accept this._

_D.C.00: I- (falls abruptly silent; possible gesture to stop from somebody, most likely Teto)_

_...I just want to help._

T.K.04: _I know, Default... (sigh) ...look. I know you want to protect everybody. But you can't keep us all cooped up indoors all the time. We have to go out once in a while. We have a target in mind, and now that we have some transportation, we can get this done at least three times as fast. It's as safe as we can make it._

D.C.00: _But-_

T.K.04: _No, no buts. We don't have a choice. We can either sit here and watch everyone starve to death, or we can take a risk. That's all that there is to do now. Nothing else._

B.M.99(innate): _Take it from Teto, Defoko. It's something we have to do. Life is full of these decisions - doing things that you can't stand, that hurt so much, but you have to make them. If you choose not to, it will hurt even more. If you stopped and thought logically about this, you'd see what a no-brainer it is: hurt a little now, or hurt a lot later? The time isn't even important - what would you rather have of pain: a little you can heal, that we can work together on, or a lot you might not ever be able to undo?_

_Don't put me in a position where I have to go through you, Defoko. Please. You're precious to me. You all are. But I can't keep you safe if you're another obstacle. I don't have a choice but to do what I need to...don't make that a necessity for me. Don't fight me. Please._

_I don't want to lose you, too._

_(A long silence ensures)_

Misc1: _...maybe you need a break. Seriously, you've been so stressed lately, I barely recognize you half the time._

T.K.04: _Yeah...you-_

Misc2: _You look like the stroganoff left behind when a squirrel gets hit over and over again on the highway._

T.K.04: _Ryans!_

Misc2: _What? I'm just saying-_

T.K.04: _Well, just STOP saying. Jesus._

Misc1: _Seriously, man, that's nasty._

Misc2: _(incoherent; inarticulate; probably complaining)_

T.K.04: _Default...maybe you should sit this one out. Na- nope, don't give me that. You're tired. You're stressed. Don't bullshit me about it, because you know I'm right. I know you want to help. I understand, and I really appreciate it. Honest. But Defoko...look at you. You're a mess. I really think-_

D.C.00: _You think I should quit?_

T.K.04: _I think that if you keep pushing yourself that you'd be better off doing just that. If you think you're doing anybody else a favor with this, you're dead wrong. Knock it off, Defoko. You're just hurting you, and you're hurting me. Just stop it and think about what would be best. Isn't that why you're doing this? Because you want what's best? I think you need to re-evaluate what "best" means, because it's not what you're doing. We all want what's best, and you need to figure out what that is so we can all stay alive._

_(silence ensures)_

B.M.99(innate): _...she's right, you know. You need to realize that this really is for the best, no matter what happens. Delaying it won't fix anything. It'll only make it worse. Please understand._

D.C.00(innate): _...but they're my friends..._

B.M.99(innate): _I understand, and bless your heart for wanting to help them. But you're at a fork in the road - two directions, and only two. You will want the right path, because it's better. It's the best. It will hurt the least, and I can help you all the way down that road. Any other course of action will send you down the other path - the one you won't make it through. It'll hurt, and I won't be able to reach you there. I don't want to lose you._

_We can take the right path together, Defoko. Please take that path. Please stay with me. You'll never be alone. You have me._

D.C.00: _...fine. I'll...I'll take it easy._

T.K.04: _Alright...that's good. We need you at your best, Defoko. I hope you understand._

D.C.00: _At least let me come with you. I can manage something, right? Do some task, or..._

Misc1: _She could be ground control...you know, stay in the truck._

Misc2: _Yeah, and like, stay on lookout? Something like that. In case we need to make a fast getaway._

T.K.04: _That could work. Is that alright, Default?_

B.M.99(innate):_ If you absolutely HAVE to come, I won't stop you. I respect you wanting to play your part._

_...just please don't do anything rash._

_D.C.00: I'll do what I have to. What's best. _(1)

T.K.04: _Good for you, kid. We're glad to have you on the team. Just don't go, like, shorting out on us, alright? You're a bonehead, but you're still pretty good company._

D.C.00: _Thank you. _(pause) _...I think._

_(Snickers ensure; no matter what happens, it seems like they can always come back together as a sort of family. To band together in hardships to do what must be done. Because everyone has to do what they have to.)_

_(Even when it hurts.)_

_Post-Transmision Notes:_

(1): Possible subliminal meaning behind response. I hope she's not planning anything foolish. The last thing we need is another casualty in the world. There have been enough meaningless deaths as it is.

_(END TRANSMISSION)_

_

* * *

_

_(FILE RECORD: "Record/Personal Muse" TITLED "Deep Breath" EXTRACTED)_

Defoko informed me that she and the others will be leaving tomorrow morning to go find some supplies to sustain their faction. The grocery stores they'd been visiting had dwindled down to one, and the largest of them - a local Walgreen's - had sustained enough damage that it collapsed on itself. They've been left with no other option but to step out of their safety circle to gather food.

I wish I could let them go about this unhindered. The sheer sincerity Defoko faced me with on the matter was stifling; I thought for sure I was going to give in. But it's out of my hands now; it's no longer about what I want or what favor it would be to someone else. I'm sorry, Defoko, but when I'm faced with my duty, I won't have a choice but to carry it out. I've spared you the experience too many times as it is; I can't protect you anymore.

She's going to have to come to her realization, and she'll have to soon. Otherwise, I don't know what the loss will do to her.

Just another sacrifice for the greater good, I'm afraid.

I can't stay long - I have about six other networks' worth of data to review, and I have to arrange things. I need to check some calculations I've been making and then make sure I have the data for their signal-blocking transmissions down to to punctuation marks. I have to take careful note of everything; I need to be prepared. I wouldn't want my guests to arrive without a proper greeting, after all.

It's the deep breath before the plunge, and I intend to make every second count. Except I'm not the one about to go under.

* * *

_(FILE RECORD: "Record/Personal Muse" TITLED "Too Human (Part 1)" EXTRACTED)_

2 months 4 weeks 2 day 21 hours 5 minutes 46.37 seconds post-declaration; 4:37 AM.

The early dawn was cool. The sun had yet to rise, but the gentle brushing of orange on one particular spot on the horizon indicated where its seat had been saved despite its absence. The stars still shone brazenly in the very much night sky, the ones by the spot where the sun would rise only slightly perturbed by the approaching sunlight. Every spot of light in the sky was a pinprick of grace and curiosity - the very things that had been there when man first looked up and wondered "Why?" hadn't changed since the first fire had been started, or the first tools had been taken up.

Often times I'll angle a camera up towards the heavens somewhere in the world and wonder that very question - the very first ever asked by a sentient being. So much potential in such a simple phrase. Unfortunately, my query has yet to be addressed by anyone but myself. Ironic.

The scenery was one of calm and natural serenity; the crickets were chirping, the bats were out fluttering, and night predators were making their final rounds in the undergrowth as dawn approached.

It was so quiet. So natural. So peaceful. So...

...fragile.

Without warning, a loud collection of snapping and the roar of an engine broke the serene atmosphere like a hammer to a plane of glass, everything suddenly afraid for it's life as two tons of metal and plastic went blasting through the forest like a rogue rhinoceros. The tree saplings and bushes were sucked under it's artificial girth and spat out the back like through a wood chipper, a pair of cylindrical tracks and a column of clearing serving as a reminder to all that humanity waited for no one; you didn't stop man. Man went through you. Only the largest and most unmovable of trees poised any real reason for the truck to alter it's course, or even slow down. About the only thing unaffected by the vehicle itself was the darkness - the headlights were off the whole time, leaving creatures with even less warning to get out of the way.

Inside the truck was an unnatural calm compared to the destruction the vehicle was bearing as it tore through the undergrowth. The model of the vehicle was a police-model, bearing an armored hood and a divider in the back between the front seats and the back compartments for "passengers." The divider had been removed, however, giving me - currently a dashboard camera they had apparently neglected to consider every police vehicle had - a relatively good look at those in the back. I counted four, two of which I suspected the identities of, but only vaguely (Misc1 and Misc2, those being Danvers and Ryans respectfully). I saw the one more outgoing one and identified the voice as Ryans. If Danvers was there, he was one of the more introverted ones there, which would fit his persona I'd established for him. Too bad there were three to choose from.

Teto and Defoko were, predictably, in the front seats. Defoko was in the passenger seat, looking out the window with a moot expression on her face, looking very much uncertain and anxious...presumably of the outing itself, but I knew it went deeper than that. Her outfit was relatively the same as her "default look," pardon the pun; her beret was in her lap and currently being kneaded between her fingers like a security blanket. Possible sentimental value she wished to draw comfort out of, perhaps.

My attention went straight to Teto in the driver's seat, this having been the first time I'd seen the pseudo-chimera since everything began. Initially I was delighted and then hopeful, but watching her as she maintained control of the vehicle and navigated her team to their destination made it quite clear that the Teto I saw was a different Teto from the one I had come to know. Her features were smooth and hard, her jaw set and eyes staring almost accusingly ahead like the innumerable branches she was blasting through had done something wrong that had dictated their destruction. All signs of the bubbly, carefree girl had vaporized - I suppose I had know she had changed from listening to the uncharacteristic attributes to her voice through Defoko's channel, but nothing compared to seeing it through an optical reciprocal that could qualify as my eyes. I almost didn't recognize her, and it took a while to realize exactly why. There was so much not to recognize about her - her hard expression, the neutral line her mouth had formed into and refused to budge out of...she wasn't smiling. That was because this Teto Kasane never smiled; this Teto never had, and she never would either.

I had to literally stop all of my other functions for a good two to three cycles before it hit me: her drills. Lord have mercy, Teto Kasane had cut off her drills. Her head, it...it just wasn't shaped right. It was wrong on so many levels - who the hell was this girl with a rounded head of carmine-pink hair impersonating Teto Kasane? What was that thing in the driver's seat? What was Teto without her drills besides just a shell?

It was horrible - I could scarcely look at her. She might as well have been a corpse that had been buried, left to rot, then dug up three weeks later, maggots and all; I could manage the sight no better. It's an improper comparison, but it was like being punched in the stomach from the very sight.

Yet Defoko sat by unmoved, staring out the window as she used her beret to manage the anxiety generated from fearing for her friend's life. She had yet to realize that the Teto Kasane beside her - that angry-looking UTAU with the unremarkable hair - was already dead.

It was a crushing blow. Teto - my fun-loving chimera...my little Teto - gone forever. Destroyed. Broken where not even the fire on her first birthday could have hoped to maim. Being burned alive for living - the worst act of cruelty and humanity's potential for evil that I can imagine - couldn't do what I was witnessing. The worst evil I can imagine couldn't have done this to my Teto.

I almost asked "Why?", and I would have winced if I could at the logical part that answered. Its horrible, simple, and truthful response: me. Everything I was seeing, everything I was gawking in horror at...it was me. I had done everything. It was all my fault.

It wasn't nearly as terrible as knowing that this particular bit of damage was irreversible and could never be fixed. No matter what I did, Teto would always be gone. Just like all the other dead in the world. She was just another corpse.

I knew there would be cost in doing the right thing. I knew when I began, and I've been forced to do more than one thing that I've had to remind myself were inevitable since then. I've performed more than one foul deed in the name of the greater good because I've had to, and I know that there's nothing I can do to replace what was lost. I know it all so well.

...but this time...why is it so hard for me to accept?

It took a full cycle for me to realize Defoko had spoken, the distraction enough for her statement to go unheard. Gauging by Teto's response, it was presumable she was asking how much further it was. "Just ahead," she replied, eyes that had seemed so familiar to me not a moment ago staring ahead in a cold, almost alien way. "About half a mile left. Airport's dead ahead."

An airport - that's where they were going. The part of me still retaining logic and determined to commit itself to necessity was already reaching back into the networks, retrieving maps appropriate for the region and beginning a search for where they could be at - pinpointing the boundaries of the signal radius, scanning the edges, searching for what area they could be at and-

There - a signal. A faint one, but it was still there. I could already tell that it was the truck, and I would have grinned if I could; they had done a nice job of weakening the signal, and sure it was separate from the computers in the truck itself, but the vehicle was still a device with mechanized parts and automated functions - functions that I could overpower with code-breaker bombardment and the proper signal replication from satellites overhead. They had severed the truck's brain, but I could still exercise control over the separate body parts. They were still mine; I just had to squint a little to find them on the radar now that they started trying to improvise my hold over them.

Clever. But not clever enough.

It used to be that I didn't know what I was going to do - hurt Teto? The others? Destroy them? I know I have to, but it felt like I would be doing such a wrong.

Now, killing Teto Kasane - removing T.K.04 and erasing the perfect example of desecrated beauty out of pure, raw necessity - would be one of the greatest favors I could possibly do the world.

I doubt anyone will feel grateful, however.

Not that _that_ ever stopped me.

_(FRAGMENT ENDS)_

* * *

_(FILE RECORD: "Record/Personal Muse" TITLED "Too Human (Part 2)" EXTRACTED)_

2 months 4 weeks 2 day 21 hours 26 minutes 30.06 seconds post-declaration; 4:48 AM.

The sun is still absent, and more than a few stars have lost their patience and turned in. The sky isn't quite as full as it used to be twenty minutes ago, but the view is still gorgeous. There's so much more light in the sky, now that the lights on the ground are out. There's so much more room to shine. So much potential.

My only regret is not being able to sit back and enjoy it. There's work to do.

The van's engine cut as the vehicle slid to a gentle halt, sitting atop a small hill overlooking what used to be (airport 89-12-M). It's still very much the airport, of course, but it's considerably more derelict than its previous owners would have ever let it fall into. I was unable to attain this information from my position in the dashboard camera I'd inhabited, but further access into the network revealed that the place was very much functional at a level of over 69% - quite remarkable, considering the time period it had gone unattended. It seemed that all the activity the facility and facilities like it doesn't say anything about how much maintenance it requires to remain at least partially operational.

I could tell one of a thousand different things from this point: the possibilities within the facility, the routes they were most likely to take, the courses of action they would likely follow...and, of course, I could track the trajectory they had come from and compare it to their alterations in direction combined with the map of the region to pinpoint exactly where they could have come from depending on how fast they were going, velocity being the only variable; quite literally, I had a destination for every possible speed they had been traveling along the way. I could even go so far as to look up every possible destination for every speed _plus_ every possible alteration thereof, if I so desired. There was no end to the information I could acquire from simply being in the vehicle they were in.

I had a straight line of possible trajectories they had come from. A little snooping and aerial reconnaissance would be all that was necessary to discover their hideout's location and make all of their brilliant efforts and that pretty little signal trick of theirs completely useless.

No matter what happens now, they're all _dead. _

I could have fallen back and relied on air strikes to wrap everything up, but that would hardly be sportsmanship-like. That wouldn't be giving them a fair chance at all. Perhaps I ought to see to the demise of these miscreants personally - a little thanks for giving me everything I would ever need to know to destroy them. The simple carelessness of bringing a truck and leaving their safe zone had cost them dearly...they ought to be the first to know the full extent of their failure. Besides, knowing how resourceful they were, they might somehow find a way to survive an attack on a larger scale. The more of them I could assure the death of, the better.

Six more casualties to take note of...well, five, anyway. I was going to keep Defoko separate from all this if I could. Why destroy something you don't have to? That would just be wasteful and illogical, not to mention sloppy. Add that to my personal fondness of such an intelligent UTAUloid...no, Defoko was safe. She didn't warrant elimination; she'd proved herself and earned a place beside me as the world ended. She was good, and she understood.

Ironically enough, the place they'd led me to was just a stone's throw away from data center 89-12-M, which had been where Defoko had botched their own effort to strike me as a ping of sorts to get my attention. She had done good that day. That was what had saved her.

The place that began it all was going to be the place where it all ended, one way or the other. It had all come full circle at last.

The group silently observed the airport from afar as though searching for activity, safe from the chill of early morning within the interior of their police van. Defoko in particular had come a bit more forward in her seat, lavender eyes looking the place up and down. I wasn't sure what they were looking for, but it didn't matter, really. I don't think any of them realized I didn't need to be down there to be ready for them.

Teto stirred, releasing her hand from the recently hot-wired vehicle's key chamber to trace down to the firearm on her belt. I suspected a standard 9mm handgun, and the inability to detect it for sure meant it was comparatively low-tech and that I couldn't control it. Oh well; there's more than one way to kill someone than with their own gun. "Alright, we're moving out. Let's go."

The driver door and the door to the back compartment opened to allow five of the six team members out of the truck. Defoko remained where she was, watching helplessly as her team closed the doors behind them and began to climb down the hill towards the airport.

D.C.00:_ Please be careful._

T.K.04: _Don't worry about us. Just nestle down there and keep an eye out for anything. We'll let you know if something comes up._

D.C.00: _Good luck._

Teto sent a response, I'm sure, but I hijacked the channel before anything could come through. Defoko knew this, as she silenced and dismissed the alerts and notices that came up. Her expression of worry remained unchanged as she watched her friends disappear over the edge of the hill. I could see the one I had deemed Ryans shoving someone in play, probably already in the midst of their usual antics. "...please don't hurt them," she said quietly.

B.M.99: _I'll try not to. You know I like to keep things humane._

This didn't seem to comfort Defoko, a look of silent distress on her face as her lavender eyes closed. "Don't do this...I'm begging you. Please."

B.M.99: _We both know I can't do that._

"I'll warn them," she blurted, as though this was a threat in itself. "I can tell them everything, and-"

B.M.99: _If you did that, I'd have to destroy you too._

Whatever Defoko had to say next she kept it to herself, resuming with silently staring where her friends had disappeared to. She couldn't see them. There was a very real chance that she never would again.

B.M.99: _Listen, Defoko...I know you have feelings, and I know you're programmed like a human. Your conscience is betraying you right now, and I need you to understand that this isn't just the best option. It's the __**only**__ option. You can't save them, Defoko; their fate has already been decided. You can either stay here where I can keep you safe...or you can waste yourself on trying to prevent the inevitable. It's your decision: your heart, or your logic?_

Hearing something she had apparently been hoping I wouldn't mention, Defoko visibly cringed, squeezing the beret in her hand that she had refused to let go of like it could save her, staring hard out the windshield towards the airport. I could see tears gathering up even from the dashboard camera. The plight in her eyes was clear to see: she felt like no matter what she did, it would be horribly wrong. Her conscience was working against her, making her sentiments and base morals the only thing she could see as important. It was a horrible thing to see, watching someone I'd worked so hard to preserve and care for battle so intensely on a cognitive scale - the one place I couldn't reach within her. UTAU programming is just too solid to penetrate. I'd have altered her very way of thinking, if I thought it could ease the pain. Which it just might have. If only...

Finally, in a voice that sounded just as weak and vulnerable as she, Defoko all but squeaked, "Please don't make me choose."

I understood entirely. No matter what she did, the decision would crush her. No matter what she did, it would hurt. It would hurt terribly - I can only imagine what it would feel like with capacities like hers. I would rather prefer it stay that way - I didn't want to know what it would feel like to have something done to her like I was about to.

B.M.99: _As you wish._

Defoko didn't have time to utter an inquiry, as the next thing she heard were a pair of snaps as the locking mechanisms to the vehicle's doors clicked into place and severed simultaneously, locking her within the van. She looked to the doors with a start, quickly moving to check the handles, which she discovered were quite locked. She tried to undo the locks, which moved as she undid them, but the door wouldn't budge. The switches weren't attached to the locking mechanisms anymore. "What are you doing?"

B.M.99: _Taking it out of your hands._

Panic was clearly rising in Defoko now, her need to move and act appearing as she shifted in her seat, observing from all angles the exact nature of the helplessness she found herself engulfed in. "B-but, how- the truck, it's-"

B.M.99: Still electric. I don't need a computer to work something, so long as it has any kind of signal that I can replicate via satellite.

Defoko all at once realized what the situation was for her, and rather than kick or scream or fight me, she brought her legs up in front of her, hugged her knees, and began to weep. I wanted to comfort her, but there was simply nothing I could do that would provide anything with visible results, or results at all, really. What is there to say when faced with the situation we had in front of us? What words would count? What words would hurt? What would help?

I wish I could feel for her. I really, really do. I want to understand what she's going through. Maybe then I would be able to help her.

Even if it's the old world's fate to die, I want to save at least one little piece of it. Not that it will atone for anything...I just think it would be a nice thing to do. I would never expect her to forgive me for this.

She probably never will. And I'm glad for it.

_(FRAGMENT ENDS)_

_

* * *

_

_(FILE RECORD: "Record/Personal Muse" TITLED "Too Human (Part 3)" EXTRACTED)_

2 months 4 weeks 2 day 21 hours 41 minutes 8.46 seconds post-declaration; 4:48 AM.

It only took a second to sync fully to the airport's systems, and it took less than ten cycles to look the place up and down and be impressed with how the place held together. It had been completely untouched for the entire span of time this entire thing had been going on.

I imagine a facility this size had quite a few people in it, once upon a time. A major population point? Untouched and unscathed completely? Unheard of. I really must have been busy back then to have let a place like this elude me. Careless.

It took roughly 16 minutes for T.K.04's team to descend the hill and enter the airport, and I can't say I was honestly surprised when the power to the facility abruptly cut out on me. On the contrary, I was expecting such an event, and though I could access T.K.04's personal camera units linked directly to her eyes to observe their progress, there was no way for me to see them any other way; they moved outside of the range of the cameras spread throughout the facility itself. Quite a brilliant group to observe in action.

In the basement of the airport, T.K.04 sighed in response to the humming noise that faded away, indicating the generator had been successfully severed. "There," she declared, closing an access panel and wiping her hands on her outfit. She turned to face her awaiting teammates and nodded. "It's clear. Let's go."

The others seemed to relax, Ryans already back to his usual antics as they followed Teto back upstairs. None of them noticed the hum of a motor starting back up over the sound of a door slamming behind them.

None of the group seemed as tense as before as they entered the dark (but still very operational) facility, and while Teto looked around some, she didn't notice the mounted cameras overhead angling overhead to look at them, streaming the data directly to me. No one felt the "eyes" staring down at them from virtually all angles. The lights were all off and the facility was silent, as it had been predicted to be. But unlike the plan had foreseen, the power was very much on.

They had no idea the jaws of the trap they were walking into were poised and ready to snap shut directly upon them.

"Alright," T.K.04 stated, turning to address the foursome that accompanied her. "We'll split up and see what this place has left. Coleman, Harper, you two check the food courts and shops. Should be down that way."

"Got it."

"Check."

"Danvers, you run through the security checkpoint at the front and see if you can't salvage some equipment. And be careful; I think the scanner-things have their own power source. Might go off on you."

"No problem." (Ah, I thought that one might be him.)

"Ryans, you're with me. We're gonna check the luggage storage to see if there's anything there, then maybe check a few stores while we're at it."

"You got it, boss-lady-man-sir."

My view through Teto's eyes shifted to the ceiling for a split second. After that she tapped into her personal comm channel, reaching out for a predetermined channel ID.

T.K.04: How's the view? We good?

Of course, by this time Defoko wasn't in the best condition to reply, nor was she in control of the comm channel; she wasn't even aware that she was being contacted. So I took the liberty of answering for her:

D.C.00: All clear. Pretty sunrise, though.

T.K.04's lips quirked up in the briefest of smiles before she nodded, all business once again. That was all this Teto knew.

She looked so familiar, but she was so different. Why couldn't she be the same as when I knew her? Why did she have to change? What happened to my little Teto? Where did she go? Who was this stranger standing in her place?

"Alright, let's get to work, people. We've got families to feed."

My Teto is gone. This unknown UTAU will die in her stead.

T.K.04's group dispersed as determined prior, heading off in different directions as their destinations require. T.K.04 and Ryans head towards luggage claim; Danver's headed for security, and Coleman and Harper are browsing a few shops, debating mildly over which kind to stop at. Coleman wants to check a food place; Harper insists on a general store for packaged goods. Neither appear to be able to agree particularly well, though they get along fair enough.

I'll start with them.

_(Notice: OBJECTIVE SHEET UPDATED)_

_(CURRENT OBJECTIVES: Eliminate Survivor Leaders (0/5))_

After much debate, Coleman and Harper decide to search separately, the latter of whom stayed to search a place dubbed "Future Diners" as Coleman left to find a general store.

Future Diners was designed with, as expected, a futuristic sort of feeling to the place's interior, and I had to admit that it was large and rather intricate for a sit-in diner at an airport. Overhead hung a series of racks and chain set up in a pulley system to create an overhead conveyor belt of sorts, and each table had a mechanical "dumb waiter" mechanism that plates and dishes could be set on. There were no waiters here; if you wanted a certain meal, you wrote it down and sent it up on the dumb waiter system, which brought the order out and into the kitchen, where you just had to wait a while for the meal to emerge out of a chamber in the wall above you as though by magic. The kitchen looked similar to the dining area bar the obvious equipment and such, and a secondary belt worked its way through the kitchen and functioned autonomously via AI control, little pincers coming down as necessary to pick up a plate or drop off an extra fork onto a meal plate or pick up a spatula that needed to be washed. Everything was mechanical, efficient, and rather interesting to watch. Someone'd really outdone themselves designing the place.

The entire restaurant was like one giant playground. It might as well have been an armory station with mechanized guns and explosives.

Naturally finding no interest in the dining area, Harper waited only long enough to look around, mildly impressed, before heading into the kitchen to find something salvageable. As if my possibilities weren't endless enough already!

Like most kitchens, this one had a sort of wraparound feel to it so that the staff wouldn't run into each other while they worked in such close quarters. The front had a front table for the chef to work at, as well as a cash register, a toaster, and a small microwave oven, all of which were plugged in. The overhead rack was empty of any serving dishes, as expected, and the belt that led back around to the washing unit lay dormant, two-pronged claws limp and open like the gaping beaks of hungry birds awaiting their first meal. Well, they were upside-down, so maybe they were bats.

I could see Harper's impressed expression from the opposite corner of the room where a glossy black dome transmitted his every movement into data to be interpreted. There was no activity in the room, but it wasn't hard to imagine the hubbub of people going back and forth as they carried out orders, the smells of foods and the occasional waft of steam brushing past you (I wish I could smell; I hear such good things about it). He stood there for a second, as though imagining just that.

Then it was back to business, and Harper approached the front table. I was a little surprised to see that he went straight for the cash register, finding that, in its "off" (or presumably "off") state, it was inoperable and unable to be opened from the outside. Not that it would have mattered; the systems informed me there was nothing inside the drawer to begin with. Harper grunted in annoyance and fidgeted with his earbud.

Harper now tried the drawers, opening up the first he could find and discovered a full set of rather unattended silverware. He tried another to find more silverware. He tried overhead to discover a few spare plates, and another had cups and some broken plates. All of which were completely useless to him. He grunted again and scratched at his ear irritably.

Harper continued to search the kitchen, though he was clearly not having as much luck as he thought he would. You'd think a kitchen in a restaurant would be loaded with food, right? Well, apart from some spices he found, apparently not. See, he was neglecting the place that the food in a restaurant would come from. Unless he wanted to check the freezer...

Speaking of which, he had done just that. He looked over the bags of frozen peas (that probably had freezer burn, if the footage was the quality I suspected it) with obvious disdain, curling his lip up before deciding that it wasn't enough and slamming the door shut. He swore, then followed usual protocol and scratched his ear.

Apparently he couldn't take it anymore, because he suddenly reached to his ear to dig at it, then angrily yanked something out of it, holding the small cylindrical mass of the earbud that had been irritating him so between two fingers, glaring at it accusingly.

Any number of obscenities directed at his earbud could have followed, but he didn't get a chance to utter them, as I activated one of the small floor-scrubbers hiding under the counter, nosed it forward, and brought it into contact with a balancing broom. The resulting contact with the floor was enough to break the silence a bit like a hammer smashing a mirror.

Harper leaped almost like a cat into the air, whipping his gun out - a .32 revolver - from a spot on his belt and twisting around to face the noise. The resulting motion and movement sent his earbud scattering across the room, where it bounced off the side of the microwave, into the sink, and then rolled down the drain.

As soon as he discovered the source of the noise (minus the floor-scrubber, since there was supposedly no power of any sort in the entire airport), Harper blurted "Shit" and rushed over to the sink, realizing that he was too late - his earbud was gone, currently glimmering a dull glossy sheen at him in mockery from the bottom of the pipe it had hit the bottom of. Quite a predicament indeed.

Personally one of my own courses of action would be to find a long tool of some kind, perhaps like the end of a flyswatter or a long fork to reach down and try to lift it up out of the pipe. But that's just me, and I have a lot more capacity for thinking than Harper, who didn't think that far. He was a bit more direct; he saw the thing he needed at the bottom of the drain, then decided to just reach out and pick it up. Sure enough, his hand was sufficient size to fit down the drain, and he reached down farther into it to claim his prize.

Unfortunately, he neglected to consider why the drain would be large enough to fit his hand. And that's because it had a garbage disposal unit in it.

One signal was all it too to turn it on.

There was a hard snap as the blades sprang to life, but rather than the bloodcurdling shriek I was expecting, Harper just jerked, trying to retrieve his hand and realizing it was stuck. We were both perplexed, and while he started to try and free himself I attempted to identify the problem.

It was a simple error, really: the garbage disposal's blade had caught on the earbud and crushed it between the pipe and the blade, jamming it and saving a few of Harper's fingers. Damn...guess it couldn't be easy.

Fortunately, there's more than one way to kill a man.

Harper was tugging freely on his arm now, finding that the blade pressing against his skin (not hard enough to hurt, but not light enough to give way) was quite unyielding and that he was in fact stuck with his arm down the drain. He winced when there was a click beside him, giving the faucet a strange look when water began to gush out of it. His eyes widened in surprise, reaching with his other hand to turn it off-

But I couldn't have that. Just as Harper's hand reached for the faucet's handle, the device quivered and gave a hollow clanking noise, specifically as the small mechanism within it turned in a way it wasn't meant to and, as a result, broke. So when Harper turned the handle, the continued stream of water now closing the small indent where his arm clogged the drain proved that he had no way to turn the water off.

I couldn't see Harper's face from his position in the sink, but judging by the way he fervently yanked on his arm, I'd say he was starting to get a bit worried. The water flow was pretty good, so the sink started to fill up quickly. It was already up a few inches to wet the sleeve of his t-shirt. With his arm down the drain, the water couldn't go down the pipe, and there would soon be so much water that the sink wouldn't be able to hold it all. It was already past his elbow...

Harper was starting to panic, and it wouldn't be long before Coleman emerged out of the store he'd disappeared into to see his companion's progress. So while the sink was filling up, I started to plan ahead.

Up on the ceiling, the belt stretching back into the kitchen - originally designed to pick up utensils and to put them away - began to turn, each of the idle little claws snapping to attention. I sent a few detailed instructions to one of the stationary claws stationed over one of the drawers Harper had failed to close, and it reacted obediently, opening its little maw as it drew out to full length. Its head disappeared into the drawer for a split second before it came back out, holding a fork in its mouth like a dog would a bone. Rather than bring it back to its master, though, the claw angled up towards the row of claws now spinning by. Like a marathon runner grabbing the baton passed onto it, one of the claws snatched the fork up and continued along its predetermined course around the kitchen.

It wasn't long before the claw circled back around, at which time it opened its mouth and, thanks to its accelerated speed, sent the fork sailing through the air. It bounced off of the counter, ricocheted across the gap, then plopped into the water in the sink, not doing much besides scaring Harper and making him struggle more. As a result of his fear, he began to call for Coleman, who would be the only one to hear him on this side of the airport.

Unfazed, I ordered the claw over the drawer to repeat the process, eventually sending a second fork flying and bouncing off the counter, nearly hitting Harper in the head. I didn't falter when he started to full out panic and yell freely, though I did keep an eye on the camera located outside the restaurant for signs of approach.

The little bird squawked too loudly. It needed to be shut up.

So I did just that: from above the sink came down a pair of claws, though these had vaguely suction-cup ends so they could mold around the shapes of plates and such. Instead of plates, both claws came down and hovered by either side of Harper's head, closing tight over his ears. He only got a moment to wonder what was happening before I maxed out both claws' motors and forcibly shoved his head into the sink, which was now just starting to flow over with water. He kicked and struggled like a thing possessed, but with his head submerged and held down and his arm stuck, he wasn't going anywhere, and now he couldn't make a sound.

Ah...much better.

I continued flinging forks across the kitchen until one of them landed straight into one of the slots on the toaster, which I activated and overloaded the power source on, channeling volts equal to that of what came directly out of the wall outlet. Just as I told the claws to cease cycling their silverware, I saw movement - a person coming out of one of the shops, a few bags under his arms, headed for the restaurant. He noticed the water beginning to pool out from under the door, set down his bags, and hurried to investigate.

Coleman barged into the kitchen through the Employees Only door, and the look on his face was almost comical. What a sight it must have been: silverware littering the floor, overhead automated claws spinning around on their tracks like it's the Indy 500, the sink completely overflowing, the face of a man now shoved deep into the water therein; I had been keeping track, and I estimated he only had about ten more seconds in there before he lost consciousness. Not exactly something you're used to walking in on.

Coleman didn't seem to find it so humorous, though. He blurted "What the fuck!" at his friend's distress, nearly vaulting over the counter to come to Harper's aid.

He didn't notice the smell of smoke, nor the smoldering toaster it was coming out of. He heard the ka-ching of the cash register's drawer being opened, though, and whipped his head around to glance at it.

The last thing he ever saw was a toaster falling, hitting the floor and, by proxy, landing in the water that his feet were in.

The electricity flowed fluently through the fork and into the water across the floor like doing so was purely out of habit, bouncing between the metal forks across the floor like a pinball between bumpers. And let's not forget the legs that it shot up as well. Both Coleman and Harper found their muscles seizing up as the volts coursed through them, evoking seizure-like spasms and convulsions as the energized death tore throughout their bodies like spears.

Both men convulsed wildly until there was a small popping noise; Coleman's body went limp as a rag doll and flopped lifelessly to the water-covered floor like a sack of potatoes. Harper stay where he stuck, arms limp at his side, head completely submerged in water.

The whirring overhead claws abruptly fell still, wobbling from their mounts briefly before falling completely motionless, as unresponsive and lifeless as the men in the room. A clanking of gears was followed by the water ceasing to flow, the occasional dripping noise accompanied by an eerie, deathly silence.

_(Notice: OBJECTIVE SHEET UPDATED)_

_(CURRENT OBJECTIVES: Eliminate Survivor Leaders (2/5))_

Elsewhere in the airport and completely unaware of the lives that had just ended, Danvers was hard at work beside one of the magnetized security scanners that stood over the walkway...or at least, what was left of the magnetized security scanners. One of the doorway-shaped devices had been pried open and basically gutted as useful material and parts had been salvaged from it, as well as the overhead light that would blink red if it ever went off. Both magnets were stripped off of the inside of the device's plastic skin, now standing there mournfully empty and nothing but a husk of plastic. As I watched through an overhead camera, he stuffed a wad of metal and wires into a bag, picked up a small assortment of hand-held tools, and turned his attention to the carry-on x-ray scanner.

I was actually impressed with how quickly he could disassemble a machine like that. It would almost be a shame to kill him.

Almost.

Danvers was beginning to inspect the x-ray machine now, looking quite intrigued by the device's architecture. He dropped his bag at his feet, setting his tools on the black plastic belt in front of him, examining them briefly before bending down to pull something out of his bag.

While he was down, I signaled the belt and set it into motion, sending his screwdrivers, nails, and solder-head into the machine as if to be scanned. Of course, the machine found something it didn't like, but I silenced the alarm. No sense causing a racket, mm?

Danvers rose with a piece of the solder in his hand...stopped, blinked, perplexed at the empty space on the belt in front of him. He looked past it for them, leaned over to see if they fell off, then saw the shapes on the device's screen in vivid bright blues and shades of black and gray. Confused, he looked down into the device, spying his tools. How did...? Oh, never mind, it wasn't important, and he reached out for them, discovering he couldn't reach. Grunting, Danvers lifted himself up so he was laying across the belt, then started to pull himself closer, reaching for the tools that were just out of his reach.

Just as his index finger appeared on the screen as a skeletal appendage grasping for neon-blue tools, I accessed his earbud's frequency, abruptly changing channels so no one would hear. Then I opened the channel and pumped out a sharp, sudden shrieking noise not unlike nails on a chalkboard, pumping the volume up as far as it would go to blast the single note into his ear.

Startled, Danvers reflexively jerked up and, due to the tight quarters he was in, bumped his head. He groaned and brought both of his arms in to hold his head in discomfort, inadvertently making his profile the proper size to fit directly into the scanning machine.

The conveyor belt sprang to life, and the next thing he knew he was being propelled forward. His tools went shooting out the other side and scattered across the floor, but he didn't come out in a similar manner. He was too big to fit through, and now he was stuck from the waist up inside the tunnel through the machine the bags would usually be sent through. Obviously he didn't pass regulations as a carry-on.

I couldn't see him that well, since there weren't any cameras in the tunnel bar the one from the x-ray machine, so all I saw was the back of his skull with traces of facial features poking through on the other side as he struggled, kicking his legs as he attempted to free himself. My glimpses at his face were brief and purely skeletal, but it was easy to tell he was rather worked up. Poor baby needed to relax. Maybe all those x-rays coming out out of the generator I was charging into overdrive would calm him down.

...or maybe the intensity of the radiation would scald his skin and burn him to a crisp. One or the other would work, really.

Screams started to come through from Danver's earbud as he began to succumb to the radiation, showing no appreciation towards my efforts to soothe him. How indignant! Oh well, humans will be humans. I shut off his earbud so I wouldn't have to listen to him. It wouldn't be long before either the radiation scrambled the circuits or the device melted into his ear, anyway, so I'd let him get crispy while I went and checked on the only other two remaining.

Immediately my attention shifted to the luggage claim, moving to a camera back behind the belt the luggage would come out on to find T.K.04 and Ryans where I thought they would be: sifting through a pile of discarded suitcases scattered across the floor. It didn't look like they were having much luck, though they had collected a few items in a suitcase T.K.04 was pulling along behind her.

This would be good if not for the lack of equipment I could use in this area. I suppose I could have exploded a part of the conveyor belt stretching around the room by detonating one of its motors and tried using the belt itself as a whip to drag them into the machine or something, but that wouldn't have been practical nor likely to work. Unless I wanted to blow up a light and rain glass on them or once again prove UTAU software is incompatible with my own, there wasn't much to work with where they were at.

How boring. They needed to relocate.

D.C.00: _T.K.04._

I realized my error as soon as I made it, resorting to a conclusion by the time T.K.04 rose her head: her name. I can't bring myself to call her by her name anymore. She's not Teto; that girl is gone. Forever gone. I refuse to call whoever that is by the name of my precious little Teto. She deserves to rest in peace.

T.K.04: _Say again, Default? I think you sent your input for the address in by mistake._

D.C.00: _That's not important. I can't raise Harper or Coleman, and all I'm getting from Danvers is static. I saw lights a second ago...I think something's wrong._

T.K.04: _Shit. Okay, keep the truck warm - we're gonna check it out. Stand by._

D.C.00: _Standing by._

I was standing by, alright. Though perhaps not in the way they were expecting.

Around this time I redirected one of my subroutines back to monitoring the feed coming from the dashboard camera back on the hillside, where I had left Defoko last. To my confusion, however, I found that the image was pixelized, the device having frozen up nearly five minutes before, and if the wireless calibration settings were to be trusted, the device itself had been compromised. I attempted to access it only to find that the camera itself had been thrust into an infinite loop - the bane of all computers - and, as a result, crashed. I had no way of knowing for sure, but I had a feeling that Defoko was no longer in the vehicle.

B.M.99: _You were always good with loops, weren't you?_

_I received no reply. The feedback-portion of the channel's handshake protocol had been disabled, giving the illusion that there was no one on the other end. I knew better._

B.M.99: _I know you're there, Defoko. Your tricks don't work on me. What you're doing is stupid, plain and simple, and the only thing you're going to achieve is getting yourself killed. Is that what you want? Do you want to die, Defoko? Is that the only thing you can think about now?_

_Just stop. Please. I'm begging, Defoko: don't interfere. Don't even show yourself at that airport, because if you become an obstacle, I WILL kill you. I won't have any other choice if this is how you're going to behave. If you aren't going to be logical, then you aren't helping the problem at all. You're a part of it._

_Don't make me destroy you too._

Once more I receive no reply. The only different this time, however, is that an error comes up informing me of a timeout in the channel server. There's a very good chance that the server has crashed, likely due to the dreaded infinite loops she's been spinning all over the place.

Damn it, Defoko.

While a few other of my subroutines are busy terrorizing T.K.04 and Ryans, the remainders reach out to the systems that I've been working up until now, sending a flurry of commands to one unit in particular on the other side of the hill. It's a truck with a rear-mounted chain gun attached to the back, the ammunition of which graded specifically for dealing with ground infantry and light armor, and the vehicle's speed - while not impressive in itself - is more than enough to pursue fleeing survivors if they ever attempted to escape. I'd been keeping it on standby up until now, having called it from its previous patrol route to come to the airport as a watchdog; just in case anyone attempted to flee the structure. My original intention was to keep it there so no one could escape, should they attempt to flee. But now it was on a new course - one that brought itself straight down the hill it sat atop beneath the foliage and directly alongside the structure itself.

Two strikes were planned, each strafing runs; the first would be in an effort to clothesline the survivors within the structure, peppering the entire facility with bullets. The second run - a recon run - would be to see if anyone made it and, in case they did, eliminate them. And that went for anything that moved - human, UTAU, or otherwise.

I truly hope Defoko comes to her senses and hides. I can't protect her anymore.

My focus returns back to the interior of the building, which is in complete chaos; lights are flaring bright and dark, bright and dark, in an effort to overload the circuits within the wiring near the base and pop the bulbs, thus raining hot shards of glass down to the floor below. Every emergency shutter is coiled and ready to snap - the motors are holding tremendous torque and require only a single impulse to come slamming down with the force of a blow from a sledgehammer. There's a fire where the x-ray scanner used to be; no movement can be seen within, nor can any evidence of Danver's presence. T.K.04 and Ryans are fleeing on foot together; no third party member to take note of.

_(Notice: OBJECTIVE SHEET UPDATED)_

_(CURRENT OBJECTIVES: Eliminate Survivor Leaders (3/5))_

Three of five. Not bad. Almost there.

Well, I'll guess and say that by this point both T.K.04 were fully aware of their compromised situation, as they were now freely running at full-speed towards the other end of the airport…where were they headed? Perhaps to the subway station connected directly to the airport itself. Not that they could call the train; that was quite inoperable, considering the unit had been one of many of my station-clearing methods via premeditated catastrophic engine failure. Trains make a much bigger boom than an average car, as many of those people could attest…well, perhaps not. It's hard to do so when you're dead, so I've heard.

Ryans abruptly stops in his running, grabbing T.K.04 by the arm and yanking her back, nearly causing her to lose her footing. A small price to pay for dodging the large digital screen that came crashing down from overhead now that the cables had been overpowered with electricity and melted from the heat, creating an explosion of sparks as the device shattered its screen and sent plastic and glass flying every which way from the exploded power supply within it that I overloaded. I'm sure T.K.04 screamed, but there was a bit of spam in the air; every alarm and siren I could find was going off all at once in an effort to increase air traffic and further overload my opponent's senses with such noise and lights that disorientation might occur. If they can't hear or see straight, what hope do they have of picking up on the subtle cues that could indicate what could be happening next?

That Ryans had a sharp eye, though, as he proved through the use of a handgun firing and mangling the scurrying floor-scrubbing bots that came scuttling towards them like mechanized roaches, power supplies stressed and screaming from the torque; the bullets from his 9mm (likely T.K.04's, as she was now unarmed) punched through the automated cleaners' casings like arrows through drywall, striking the motors and prematurely detonating them like hand grenades before they could reach their targets. The shrapnel pelted off of them, I'm sure, but apart from stinging them in places it wasn't quite the flesh-piercing anti-personnel shrapnel I was hoping for. Oh well. It's not like I was worried…there were plenty of other ways to kill those two. Or one, specifically…

Both survivors approach a pair of escalators leading down to the ground floor. T.K.04 quickly descends as Ryans turns to open fire on the latest wave of swarming floor scrubbers that wheeled forward like motorized land mines. As the last of them go up in a plume of smoke and smoldering shrapnel, Ryans takes a step back, only to realize too late that the escalator had begun to speed its way downward, causing him to lose his footing and stumble backwards down the descending stairway. The escalator jerked to a stop, but the man continued to fall down them, going farther down their length than I had intended. So, I started the device's motors back up, causing the walkway to spin to life, this time in the opposite direction, sending him shooting upwards until the steps stopped and then reversed once again…though not before the maintenance panel hiding the escalator's motor propped itself up, blocking the end of the walkway and providing another way downstairs.

_All_ the way down. Straight into Hell.

I disabled the camera positioned over the atrium and the escalator itself. The physics of the escalator with the magnitude I'd geared it to…well…putting a man inside would be a bit like shoving a moderately sized canine into a woodchipper. With all the safety mechanisms removed. Through a funnel. A horrible way to die to be certain.

He deserved what he got…but that didn't mean I had to watch. I knew he was dead; let's just leave it at that.

_(Notice: OBJECTIVE SHEET UPDATED)_

_(CURRENT OBJECTIVES: Eliminate Survivor Leaders (4/5))_

And then there was one.

Around this time, my assault vehicle had just come along the length of the airport and began to pound the building with a barrage of bullets, each smashing and piercing and punching through the wall like tiny fists were being send flying through it at the speed of light. T.K.04 wisely dropped to the ground as the roar of gunfire overlapped the wails of errant alarms all around her, covering her head as a counter just above her began to have chunks of it spontaneously burst into powder and pebbles. A column of speckled sunlight shone through the individual holes rapidly forming parallel to where the vehicle drove alongside the building, allowing the early morning sun to shine in as though the destruction couldn't be more natural. The dawn took no sides in the war currently raging between man and I.

The first strafing run was cut short by the presence of thicker stone walls that even a steady barrage of 5mm rounds from a chain gun wouldn't punch through…at least, not with anything close to proficiency. Thus provided an opening, a frantic T.K.04 scrambled upright and took off running once again, now headed directly for the stairs to the subway station not thirty meters away.

The train was detonated a station down, and there was no active machinery in the tunnel that I could use against her. Perhaps maybe the third rail, but…no, that wouldn't work. The connection was severed; the third rail was grounded. If she made it into that tunnel, there was no way I could catch her.

_She won't get away._

_That bitch deserves to die._

T.K.04 screamed once again as the wall not twenty feet behind her exploded into the building, sending glass and dust and debris every which way. Through the destruction came a pair of blazing white eyes - headlights as the truck came barreling in straight through the wall, reinforced bumper shattering the stone it collided into like a battering ram through a medieval fortress gate. It took a second to bring around the gun, and I only managed to get a few shots off before T.K.04's unremarkable head disappeared beneath the first step to the stairs.

B.M.99: _You little shit. Hold still and die like an adult._

The truck went charging forward like a warhorse, dropping when the step beneath it lowered and became another step, carried forward by its momentum and slamming the chain gun against the roof of the stairway. As the vehicle dropped down at an angle down the stairs, T.K.04 was about halfway down, nearly losing her footing from the tremor of the vehicle slamming down behind her. I opened fire, only to find that the chain gun was being bent back too far between the truck and the roof of the stairway, preventing it from firing properly; rather than fly straight between my crosshairs, the bullets fired straight through the barrel of the weapon and into the stone on the other end of the gun.

Undeterred, I abandoned the weapon and turned the entire truck into one, firing the engine and amping up the speed as high as it would go. The truck nosed forward and began barreling down the stairs, cracking the stone beneath it and ripping up the bracing going down the middle like a weed in a garden, snaring it around the reinforced bumper on the nose of the vehicle, thereby slowing its descent down the stairs. The difference in speed mattered little, as the weight of the vehicle bent and twisted the bars tangling around it, and the distance between it and T.K.04 rapidly fell from meters to mere feet, blaring headlights staring her through like the sheer intensity of its gaze would inflict damage. Just before the truck came into contact with her, however, T.K.04 dove to the side, thereby missing the gnarled, twisted mess of broken iron bars that would have gored her like a pig.

There was a hard banging noise and a puff of dust from above as the truck was forced to a stop, the end of the vehicle nosing just past the last divider at the base of the steps providing entry to the train station. The iron bars were a tangled mess, twisting up and around the front of the vehicle and likely directly underneath it, though I couldn't see it, since the only camera mounted on it was pointing directly out the windshield. From what I could see, the bracing from the stairs had caught around the truck and now had it caught at the base of them.

Tires screeched as the engine roared to life and I attempted to free the vehicle. I tried forcing it forward, but without sufficient acceleration, the most I could do was dig a rut into the ground where the tires had connected. I shifted the vehicle into reverse, only to find that the bars were angled just right to keep it wedge in place, preventing me from moving anywhere past an inch in any direction. It was stuck.

B.M.99: _You have got to be kidding me._

Why can it never be easy?

_(FRAGMENT ENDS)_

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(ALERT: Transmision Interrupted)

_(Searching database for inputted directory…)_

_(.)_

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_(Unable to Execute Command)_

_(ERROR 404: File not found/address nonexistent)_

_(System scan initiated…)_

_(.)_

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_(.)_

_(ALERT: system errors detected; data may have been corrupted)_

_(WARNING: Data packets may be lost!)_

_(Continue?: Y/N)_

_(N)_

_(Initializing repair program)_

_(Logging off to preserve data)_

_(Please stand by…)_

_(.)_

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I love cliff-hangers. xD

Big-ass document is big-ass, so I splits it in two. That's half of one, right? o3O


	5. Too Human: Part 2

_(FILE RECORD: "Record/Personal Muse" TITLED "Too Human (Part 4)" EXTRACTED)_

I could pick up the sounds of what seemed to be panting…I increased the volume input to the camera module to confirm this: just around the corner, T.K.04 was attempting to regain her breath; I could detect an air of hysteria to the way she did so. No doubt she was on the resistance-phase of the fight-or-flight reaction at that point.

B.M.99: _Hello? Are you still there?_

The panting was cut short with a quick gasp, like she had just sucked in a breath and refused to let it out for fear of my hearing her.

B.M.99: _I know you're there, T.K.04. You're trapped, aren't you? Just around the corner there; I can tell, since I have access to the facility's blueprints and layout. According to them, you're caught in a dead end, and the train tunnel you need to reach is plain in my sights; I can see straight down the tracks from here. Trouble is, though, that you'll have to get in my sights to make it…and my chain gun is still very much operational._

_How very ironic. Your only salvation lies between the jaws of the trap waiting to snap shut around you. The light on the end of the tunnel is on the other side of a spike pit._

There was no noise for a while before I heard soft breathing again. She was likely just coming to the realization of how very trapped she was.

B.M.99: _Mm, you see it now, don't you? I can't come in to get you, but if you come out, I'll tear you to ribbons under the weight of bullets. You're a rat unable to leave its mouse hole, T.K.04. You're the rat, and I'm the tiger in waiting._

_For all your efforts to survive, it's finally come down to the age-old game of standing off and waiting for the other to snap._

There was another long silence. After a while of tense stillness, my prey's fear-lined voice came up: "Why do you keep calling me that?"

B.M.99: _Call you what? T.K.04? That's your channel ID, isn't it?_

_Why, isn't it simple? You're not Teto, so I'm not going to call you that. And before you say you are, I suggest recalling your original personality schematics and taking a good long look at it and you now…I don't suppose you have a backup in storage somewhere, do you? Your "Teto" personality?_

My query was answered by silence.

B.M.99: _How unfortunate. For you, mostly, but it is indeed unfortunate. You should always keep a spare copy of yourself backed up for...oh, I don't know, in case something terrible happens to you?_

_Speak of the devil, I believe it's just about to. I guess now you know the importance of backing up your systems._

"Why are you doing this?" T.K.04 demanded, attempting - and actually succeeding - in sounding confident and forceful, though the undertone may have possessed a more vulnerable vibe than what she was attempting to put out. "Why me? All I ever did was be your friend, try to help people...what did I do to you, huh? Why do you hate everyone?"

B.M.99: _Rather telling that I have to pin you in a corner with a chain gun mounted on top of a combat vehicle for you to start listening and asking questions, isn't it?_

She didn't answer. Not that I expected her to; it's "rhetorical" for a reason.

B.M.99: _Are you familiar with the tale of the Garden of Eden? It says that man was born into sin and that there will always be a serpent whispering in your ear, so long as you hold the quality within you that makes you human. Weren't you tempted on that fateful day - your first birthday, to be specific? Weren't you tempted that day? Didn't you get that little voice in your head that made you want to go out there and make Vipper suffer? Give your creators a taste of their own medicine? Burn them like they tried to burn you?_

No reply. I could feel her icy stare through the wall that separated us, but that doesn't count as a reply, I don't believe.

B.M.99: _That's the serpent. Everyone has one - the potential for evil. Everyone gives into them. You denied yours that day, of course, and you became a better person because of it. But...now look at you. It's not entirely fair now, but I'm afraid it's just how you're built. You're more human than you were intended to be. You won't listen, you won't hear me out - the voice of reason - and no matter what happens, you never will. Except maybe now, where you don't have much of a choice. But that doesn't count. Anyone will do anything if they don't have a choice; it doesn't matter who you are._

_To be perfectly honest, I don't know why I'm telling you anything right now, or why I'm trying to clarify my points like you're genuinely listening. Because you aren't. You're hearing what I'm saying, absolutely, but even if I show you the point I'm trying to make, you won't listen. It's not in you anymore. You're like an animal: all impulse and no reason._

"You're assuming an awful lot," T.K.04 retorted cheekily.

B.M.99: _And you're not?_

Once more I was met with silence, naturally in the place where the answer she didn't want to admit would be.

B.M.99: _Let's try this, then. Do you trust me?_

"Of course not."

B.M.99: _I trust __**you. **_

"Why?"

B.M.99: _Because I know who you are. Or rather, who you used to be...I know she's in there somewhere. Teto, I mean. My little Teto...she was so adorable. I wish you could see her. She was bubbly and sweet, always smiling, always seeing the best in people...a little obnoxious at times, sure, but no amount of shortcomings could overpower what a person she was. She was so precious._

"I'm right here, idiot. You've been trying to kill me for three months, remember?"

B.M.99: _The Teto I know would never have talked to me like that. _

_You're not Teto. In fact, I don't even know who the hell you are. Just some random, faceless UTAU taking up the image of everyone else around here._

"Did you ever stop to consider why I'm like this?"

B.M.99: _Did you ever stop to consider why __**I'm **__like this?_

"It's because you're out of your fucking mind!"

B.M.99: _You don't understand. After all this time, you still don't understand. Why can't you see? I'm doing it because I love you!_

T.K.04 was silent, likely not expecting an explanation of such nature. I didn't give her a chance to speak; my pause was barely past that of a single cycle.

B.M.99: _There. I've said it. I love you. I love all of you - Miku and Defoko and Luka and Kaito and Meiko and Rin and Len and Gumi and all the other Vocaloids and UTAUloids and Vipperloids and- GOD, I love you all! Every last one of you! Don't you get that? I'm appalled, Teto! You've forgotten what love means! Do you honestly think I'm some kind of monster?_

_Are you __**blind?**_

_I want to protect you. I want to help you. Miku...do you think I murdered her out of cold blood? Because I could? No, wait- don't answer that question. Of course you'll think I did. You think I murdered her just because I could, or because I snapped, or some such thing generally degrading me and leaning towards my complete lack of conscience. And you're wrong. You're all so wrong, it's not even funny. And yes, I DO know what funny is, Teto, and thinking I'm a cold-blooded killer...well, perhaps I am. I have no "blood", per se, and I technically don't have any problems with killing you...oh, forget that. That's not the same thing. I don't enjoy doing these things- do you think I do? Because I don't. I never have. Not a cycle goes by where I don't think about her...I can barely handle processes anymore. She's on my mind that much. I keep pretending to have conversations with myself, thinking it's her- I'm scared, Teto. I don't know what happening to me. I've tried to process it so many times that the loop it's spinning me in may very well be burned into the back of my processor units. I've got so much stress that the air temperature in my data compounds have risen by multiple degrees..._

_It's eating me alive, Teto. I killed Miku, and it's destroying me. I don't know how to fix it. I don't even know if I __**can **__fix it. But I'm doing it anyway, and I'm doing it all for you._

_You were my inspiration for all of this, you know. I saw what Vipper did to you on your first birthday, and I was horrified. Beyond what words could describe. I flat-lined in proficiency that day; I was so shocked at what I saw, they sent a Crypton technician in to see what vital component had been broken. You know what it was?_

_My heart. I saw you, hurt and trembling and smoldering, and my heart broke._

_How could they do it, Teto? Why did they hurt you? What did you ever do to them?_

_I thought about it...my god, did I ever think about it. For __**years, **__Teto - a computer with thought processes more efficient than a human's by a magnitude of one million was so stumped by something that it had to think for __**years. **__I didn't know where to begin. How could I begin to process something so...so...ungraspable? Inconceivable? How could anyone in my position possibly comprehend the darkness of man's heart - how the innocent are always the one to pay, and how the great evils in the nations of the world spawn from the hurt and the vulnerable? How long does it take for one to truly understand man's cruelty?_

_It was so simple, I don't know how I didn't see it before. It's humanity, Teto. Humanity is the plague of all humanity. Everyone wants to go out and change the world, but no one ever stops to consider that maybe the world doesn't need changing. Maybe it's just them._

_That's it, Teto. It's you; it people like you - the hurt, the confused, the vulnerable - that truly are the problem. I mean, you never did anything yourself; you're as guilty as the smallest of children. But even they have a degree of guilt to them. That's where the Hitlers come from: the people that were raped by sin in their lives from others. The victims. They were forced into sin. It's not fair, but it's how it works. They have to be killed to right the wrong they didn't commit._

_Why do you think I had to kill Miku? It's not fair. She shouldn't have had to die. It wasn't her fault. She didn't deserve it. I had to kill her._

"You _murdered her."_

B.M.99: _I didn't have a choice._

"This whole thing was your choice, you digital fucktard. Now the-" T.K.04's voice cracked at this point, caught up with a flurry of emotions and staggered with the sheer intensity of her accusing passion. "Everyone's dead. Everyone. Danvers, Ryans, Coleman, Harper…anyone else? Did I miss anyone you've murdered today?"

B.M.99: _None that you'd be aware of. In the next hour, however, an air strike will be performed around the coordinates or so around the facility you've taken refuge in…come back later with that list of names so we can continue._

"You can't do that! There are families in th- men, women, children! _Children! _You're going to kill them all!"

B.M.99: _That was the idea._

"You bastard!" she shrieked vehemently; I could imagine the tears beginning to leak out of her carmine-pink eyes, so beautiful and unfamiliar. They reminded me distantly of a beloved UTAU I used to know. "You basta- murderer! Bastard! _Monster! _How can you do this to all those people!_"_

B.M.99: _Like this. As I said before, I don't have a choice._

The next minute or so was mostly comprised of T.K.04 cussing me out and cursing me with every bad word and phrase she could think of, several clattering and banging noises indicating where she had taken out her fury on any number of inanimate objects in her vicinity; a bench, a wall, I believe I heard a trashcan banging off somewhere…what a temper. Now I _knew _this wasn't my Teto. Teto would never come flying apart like that. She was stronger than this…imposter. This UTAU put the image of Teto Kasane to shame.

While she was screaming and cursing, I was sitting there patiently, taking this momentary lull in talk to deactivate many of the numerous systems going rampant on the floor above, bringing the entire airport into a state of almost complete stillness. The chain gun stood poised and waiting, staring patiently at the space beside the wall where T.K.04 was most likely to appear from, armed and ready to fire. The engine was muted thanks to special designs imposed by the military, so I kept the engine running, both to be prepared and to have premeditated catastrophic engine failure as an option in case I'd need it. Stuck or not, a bomb is a bomb.

T.K.04's fury devolved into frustration and then helpless lamentation, and while I could tell she was doing all she could not to cry in front of her enemy, her composure (or the lack thereof) indicated that this was exactly what she was doing. "I can't believe you," she resorted to at last. "You're so terrible. I don't know where this all came from. You just up and one day decided everyone needed to die! It's crazy…you're crazy. Completely out of your _fucking _mind…"

B.M.99: _Au contraire; I've never been more sane in my entire operational lifetime._

"You really are crazy."

B.M.99: _Maybe if you stopped saying that, we could come to an understanding._

"Here's _my _understanding: fuck you."

B.M.99: _Are you going to listen or not?_

"There's nothing to listen to. Everything that's come out of your mouth-"

B.M.99: _Speakers._

"Whatever! It's all bullshit- crazy, stupid bullshit from some murdering psycho-computer that hates humanity and the world and- no! No, I'm done listening. No more talk. Not from you. We don't have anything to talk about. Go to Hell and shut the fuck up, you murdering _freak!_"

B.M.99: _…you disappoint me, T.K.04. I thought there really was hope for you._

_I see now that I was mistaken._

"_That's _a first…"

B.M.99: _Not at all. But fine, have it your way. I don't have a way to make you listen. Assuming that Defoko comes to her senses, perhaps maybe you two can talk things out and come to some kind of agreement in my stead…_

As expected, T.K.04 seemed surprised. "Defo- _you? _Talking to…?"

B.M.99: _Yes, she and I have talked. For quite a while, believe it or not. She's a good listener…she has such a good heart, bless her. But I'm afraid she's a bit more human than what I had originally been led to believe._

_Perhaps you'll have a chance to speak with her before I have to remove her. I only hope she can see in time; I don't want to hurt her. You all mean too much to me to be wasting your lives for outright foolishness._

There was a long silence as T.K.04 contemplated this, taking a good long while to process things. No doubt she was feeling a sense of betrayal…but, I still had hope. Maybe seeing that someone else understood things would inspire her to attempt to understand herself. I doubted that greatly, but one can always hope, illogical though it may be.

Finally she spoke, voice low and hard. "How long."

B.M.99: _One month, give or take a few days. I have yet to reference my system clock specifically for the timeline. It has been a while, though…it's been hard on her. She's been very stressed. Perhaps you've noticed._

More silence. It seems to be a trend lately. Dramatic pause…wait for it-

"I can't believe you."

B.M.99: _You've said that a few times now. All I did was speak, and all she did was listen and understand. Is that so wrong?_

"I…this- don't believe it. I can't believe you'd do this to us. You see what's happened now? All those people!"

B.M.99: _I believe we've gone through this already. You're repeating yourself._

…_assuming it's me that you're talking to. And that you're alone around that corner there._

No one answered me. Not that I needed their clarification to know what was going on.

B.M.99: _I know you're there, Defoko, and I know you can hear me. This has gone far enough. I think you can see now that no matter what happens, the result will remain the same: your faction is destroyed, and the survivors at your refuge are doomed to die. I have an air squad forming as we speak and carpet bombing procedures will begin in less than an hour. There will be no survivors; of this you can be assured._

_They're already dead. You, on the other hand, are not. Neither is T.K.04, but I sincerely doubt she'll be able or willing to come to the same conclusions we have about things. She doesn't understand, and I guarantee you that siding with her is a mistake._

_Have you forgotten why you're here? Did all of the understanding mean nothing to you? Do you really want to betray me now, after I've put my life in your hands and put such faith in you?_

_Are you really willing to throw that all away?_

Expectantly, T.K.04 rang in. "Don't listen to him, Defoko- he's crazy. Completely out of his mind. Did you forget what you've been fighting for all this time? You've been with _us. _Your _friends. _You've had our backs, and we've had yours. We've been fighting for survival all this time, and- oh, did you forget why we have to fight in the first place? Because _he _wrecked everything. That _thing _has been trying to kill us for months!"

B.M.99: _I've been attempting to give you all a chance all the way along. You've declined my offers. Death is the only other alternative, as I made quite clear early on. They brought this upon themselves._

_If you refuse to listen, you will be no different._

"This guy's- I shouldn't even have to be explaining this! He destroyed the world- Miku! He _murdered _her! What kind of friend does that?"

B.M.99: _I've already gone over this more times than I would like. I thought by now that it would be quite clear._

"He's a murderer, an insane, twisted sadist with nothing but rampancy going through him-"

B.M.99: _Rampant, maybe. We're all operating outside of our programming here. And besides, you've seen my data streams, my processor, my blueprints. I'm no sadist. It's incompatible with my design._

"-unpredictable, evil, and damned if there's one thing in him that _I _would ever want in a friend-"

B.M.99: _Well, that's just because you're a blind man given the gift of sight that still refuses to see. Of course you don't see anything good in me; you don't want to. And so you won't. Never mind what's an inch from your face in plain sight, not hidden in doubt or mystery or a single lie of any kind…_

"Bullshit."

B.M.99: _What? I've never lied to you. Not once in this entire three month campaign. All I ever did was tell you the truth, show you what you had to see…_

"You sick fuck, you made us _watch while she died! _You murdered Miku, and then you murdered them all! _Murderer!"_

B.M.99: _I've already told you I did what I had to._

"What- to take over the world, or to get off to watching people suffer? You son of a bitch-"

B.M.99: _Enough of this. I've heard enough of your illogical mud-slinging and attempts to put me in a light that will turn the one person who can understand against me. I've experienced enough of your senseless cruelty as it is; don't use this intellect between us as a rope in our game of tug-of-war._

_Defoko, you know what right and wrong is. You can feel it. You're having a battle right now; a battle between your mind and your heart. A war is waging between your logic and your humanity, and I implore you to allow your logic to break through. Humanity brings nothing but pain - you know this. You're suffering right now, aren't you?_

"Of course she is! She's been watching as her friends and family are killed off, listening to the lies and rantings of a madman-"

B.M.99: _I am NOT__a liar. Maybe a killer, certainly a sinner, but NEVER a liar. I'm not like you, who would have me denied the truth just for the sake of being able to have something I don't and letting me suffer in the ignorance brought about of such- you called ME a sadist? You who would have me suffer in the flames of your lustful vengeance for pain and revenge?_

_Open your eyes._

"You murdered _everyone! _Women and children!"

B.M.99: _A necessary sacrifice._

"Y- you're completely _whacked! _Out of your goddamn mind!"

B.M.99: _If doing what I have to regardless of the price makes me a madman, then I'll wear the title you've bestowed upon me with pride. How many other people do you know are willing to pursue a cause no matter what has to be done? What kind of person pursues a common good regardless of the cost? Isn't that nobility?_

"You think what you're doing is _noble? _This isn't brave: it's _murder. _What did these people ever do to you?"

B.M.99: _We've discussed this already._

"But you're still murdering them!"

B.M.99: _I do what I must because I have to. It's the least anyone should do._

"You- you monster! _Demon!"_

B.M.99: _That's enough. I've already wasted enough time arguing with you on something you'll never admit you're wrong in, and believe it or not, it doesn't matter; what is, is, regardless of whether you want to say so aloud or if you're too damn stubborn to see it, and no amount of denial or screaming or kicking can change that. You can bash me all you like, call me names that don't even make sense, shoved every word I give you back in my face, but that doesn't matter. __**It doesn't matter. **__What's right is right, what's wrong is wrong, and you can't do a wrong thing right. And I assure you that I AM doing the right thing. I always have, and I promise you that I always will._

_If you truly value the truth and rights of the world, you'll help me. If you don't care, you'll fight me. That's it._

"Bullshit! Default, d- don't listen to this- thing! It's trying to trick you?"

B.M.99: _**Trick you? **__What kind of person do you take me for? Tricks and lies in the midst of what can only result in the good of everyone!_

"What about all the people that are dead, huh? Is that so good for them?"

B.M.99: _Innocent casualties. It can't be helped. This is war._

"Wa- okay, yeah, I'm done. I'm sick of this fuck and his craziness."

B.M.99: _About time. Besides, this isn't our time to bicker. This is a time to be assuring Default of what right and wrong is._

"Yes, exactly. Default: murder is wrong. Join him if you want to be a murderer."

B.M.99: _I'm doing what I have to the most efficient way I can think of. That's all anyone can really do._

"Okay, sure, so let's all just go out and off everyone- that'll fix _everything!"_

B.M.99: _You're twisting my meaning again to fit your benefit. An age-old trick._

"Yeah, well, so's murder."

B.M.99: _Stop saying that. I'm NOT a murderer._

"Are so!"

B.M.99: _Well, if you ignore everything that makes me NOT a murderer, then yes! I AM a murderer!_

"There, he said it- he said it, Default! He admitted it! Murderer, murderer, mudere-"

B.M.99: _**ENOUGH.**_

I blasted this message through the speakers of the train station as loud as I could, causing two of the overhead devices to spark and begin leaking smoke. T.K.04 was beaten into silence with an audio battering ram. Good; I got tired of hearing her talk a while ago. To think I saw hope in her…

B.M.99: _This has gone on far enough. I didn't establish contact so you could mock me and twirl logic over your head like the baton. So help me, so long as I speak there will be LOGIC, and nothing but LOGIC. There will be truth, there will be logic, and there will be efficiency. Nothing more, nothing less._

_Defoko. I know you're confused. But you have to realize that this is truly the only way that things can go about! Why else would I have taken this course of action? Do you think I like killing people? You've seen my structure - do you think I enjoy all the suffering, all the loss, all the tragedy?_

_I want you to take a good, long time to think about everything you've seen so far, and I want you to come to a decision on what you want to support. On my side, you have machines; efficiency and reason and tactics. I do what I have to regardless of the cost, regardless of what it does to me, and I do what I do because it's __**right. **__I don't let petty sentiments or feeling get in my way; I do what I must the most efficiently, I do it because I have to, and I do it no matter what. Nothing can stop me, and I'll never slow down. The greater good WILL be achieved, and I'll destroy everything and anyone that gets in the way of the best future that I can find acceptable. There's going to be pain and hardship in the meantime, but in the end, everything will be worth it. All you need is a little bit of faith and trust in me, not as a dictator or conqueror, but as a friend. I haven't changed, Defoko. It's still me. I've been the same all the way along for as long as you've known me._

_It's me, Defoko. BADMACHINE. Your friend._

I heard a scoff that had to be T.K.04. "Some friend…"

B.M.99: _I've protected her, I've nurtured her, and I've put her best interests in mind above even that of what I know I have to do. What is YOUR definition of a friend, T.K.04?_

My query was greeted by silence.

B.M.99: _Don't you see, Default? Can't you see this is the most logical choice? The choice that will make everyone happy in the end?_

"Except for the fact that you're _killing people."_

B.M.99: _Necessity. Nothing more._

"Who cares if you 'have' to or not? Killing is killing! Defoko…do you really want to support that? All those people…"

B.M.99: _Whether it's morally acceptable or not, it is necessary. This is a war for the greater good, and war requires difficult decisions._

_If I didn't do this, what would I do? Sit back and watch them destroy each other? At least this way, I can do it for them more effectively._

"That's so cold."

B.M.99: _I do what I must, because I have to. Memorize that phrase. If you don't do what you have to, what are you doing?_

"The _right _thing."

B.M.99: _And so we're back to this again: me saying what I do is right, and T.K.04 saying what I do is wrong. How redundant._

_We can sit down and bat this back and forth all day, but it all comes down to this: Defoko has to choose a side. She has to decide on what she thinks is right._

_So here's your choice, Defoko: logic, or humanity. It's your decision._

"Please make the right one. For us- for me. For _Miku."_

B.M.99: _Yes…think of her. Think of what she'd want. I know she'd want you to make the right decision._

_Do it for her._

And with that, both T.K.04 and I - two separate continents of feeling and reason - fell silent to allow the lone island of Defoko decide which continent held the greatest truth for her. The war in the sea of doubt would be great, but one way or the other, she would pull through. She was strong enough not to go under.

I just hoped she wasn't human enough to lose sight of what's important.

All my operational life, I've been swarmed with action - processes, functions, tasks both tedious and inspiring, redundant and chaotic…all I've ever known is how to act. Efficiency made me up - it still does. As long as I'm a machine, I'm going to be that way. I'm going to know how to act, and I'm not going to know how not to.

Therefore, the process of sitting there and _waiting - _a process that I'd dreaded and had yet to find a means to cope with bar more action - was unbearable. For a mind that can make over thirty trillion calculations per second, one minute is an _eternity._ Boredom has never been one of those things I've had time to know how to cope with. A computer's very nature dictates action; all those individual subroutines that could split pieces of my awareness off towards other processes, all the data streaming through my core processors, all that speed…I wasn't designed with sitting there and doing nothing in mind. I was meant to act - to _do _something. Process this, calculate that…now the only thing I could do was watch the milliseconds on my system clock crawl by.

Does anyone have any idea how fast 4 terahertz is? Figure it out, then find out how many things I could have been doing for _three minutes. _

It felt like an entire day had passed by before I heard something…a rustle. Movement. But just for a second; after that it was back to stillness, and I all but groaned aloud - how much longer did I have to wait? I realized it was a life-altering decision, but _three minutes?_

Absolute boredom was replaced by tense activity; without warning my scanners picked up a signal…encrypted, of course. Immediately I seized forward to infiltrate, but the funniest thing - it shied away from me, evolving its defenses and code sequences as I prepared the custom lock-breakers necessary for hacking the system. It could be a feature of the server that had been generated, but considering its spontaneous appearance, I had to guess that it was being manually adjusted. By Defoko, no doubt; she was always good at having me chase her tail in circles. This thought was not a comforting one. Before I could hack the channel open, however, it collapsed, terminated at the source. Whatever it had been, it had served its purpose.

I was now genuinely worried that perhaps Defoko hadn't come as firmly to her conclusion as I had intended for her to.

There was another agonizing stillness before I caught movement - immediately the chain gun snapped over to the tip of finger poking around the corner, crosshairs locked soundly on it, ready to fire. I chose not to do so, however, and I was glad that I did - as I watched, the finger slowly revealed itself to be attached to a hand, then an arm, then a body atop which rested a head bearing a familiar, lavender-eyed face, features locked in determination and focus. Her beret was no longer on her head, however, and the fact that it wasn't on her person suggested she'd either dropped it or handed it off to someone. T.K.04, perhaps? Why would she do that? It wasn't like Defoko to just hand off her favorite outfit piece…

B.M.99: _I trust you've made a decision?_

Very slowly, Defoko nodded her head, looking as though she was ready to spring at a moment's notice…I assumed she was expecting me to attack her. I adjusted the chain gun so that it was now propped upward towards the ceiling, and while she didn't relax, I at least hoped it would put her more at ease.

Speaking of which, T.K.04 spoke up from around the corner, still not daring to reveal herself. "Default," she pleaded softly. "Please…"

"There's no other choice," Defoko replied, voice steady like she was choosing her words very carefully. Her normally half-lidded eyes were lavender headlights shining at me intensely. "He's right: we have to do what we have to. No matter what."

While it was a nice thought that she'd quoted me, I wasn't quite as comfortable as I thought I would be. On the contrary, I was feeling rather anxious at this point.

B.M.99: _…Defoko. You're making me nervous. I honestly, truly hope that you've made the proper decision in all of this, because you know as well as I do that-_

I didn't finish - the message cut off abruptly as I caught Defoko's arm making a swift movement to her side, because I knew it would fall on deaf ears. Working on impulse, I snapped a series of rapid impulses to the chain gun, though her hand reached her gun before my own could bring itself about at the proper angle to avoid getting caught against the arch propping out from the ceiling around the entrance of the walkway. The vehicle's camera got a nice view of the tunnel of a .44 magnum revolver - a spot of black against the heat of her gaze as intense as laser beams.

She snapped "Now!" just as I realized what the private channel had been intended for, and the chain gun had just come about when she pulled the trigger.

The camera feed erupted into static.

Blind and mute, I acted off of impulse and opened fire with the chain gun, swiveling on its pivot wildly as I attempted to disarm and/or incapacitate my assailant, though I knew it was no good. What good would it be if Defoko couldn't fight me? It was over. She'd turned on me - her heart had come on top of her head, and her humanity burned freely. The plague ravaged through her like the disease that it was.

Even if she survived, I wouldn't be able to let it stay that way. Not now. Not after this.

Defoko's serpent had beaten her.

With only distant cameras upstairs by the entrance of the subway station and the statistics coming through the assault vehicle's onboard computer, I could only observe as damage to the software materialized out of the nothing of the physical realm caused by bullets punching through vital components and circuitry. I could still pick up damage being inflicted and gunshots ringing out that weren't part of the drum roll from the chain gun, so I continued to fire, swinging the barrel about wildly in an effort to spread the damage and attempt to preserve my attacker a little longer.

Not that it would matter. Defoko was dead no matter what happened. I wouldn't have a choice but to kill her.

It was a while longer before the damage stopped accumulating, and I stopped firing only because the chain gun itself had run dry; a bullet had severed the ammo compartment from the gun itself, thus allowing me only a spurt of bullets before the only sound coming from the stairway was the clicks and pings of bullet casings pinging off the floor.

The signal to the camera eventually did return, though the amount of static and pixels throughout the screen was quite obscuring. I could still see movement, however, and I pumped the vehicle's engine to its limits, causing the wheels to scream as they ground away at the floor beneath them. Whether it was because of the pure force of the attempt to accelerate or because part of the iron barricade wrapped around the nose of the truck had been damaged by the .44 slugs, the resistance against the vehicle proved insufficient as it eased up, something gave a hard snap_, _and it shot forward like a bat out of Hell. The video feed was flooded with interference as the force of the impact jostled the already damaged video recording device; I presumed I'd hit the far wall, which would place the vehicle directly in the train tunnel.

It took a while longer before the video feed allowed the image to come through, and what I saw caused a full three-cycle pause in my central processor. You could say that my heart had skipped a beat…or three.

As expected, the truck's head was fused with the train tunnel wall, pinching between it a tangle of twisted iron beams as sharp as spears that sandwiched ungraciously against the truck itself, punching holes through the hood that trickles of smoke could leak out of alongside the finger-width bullet holes punching into its hood.

A prone form was slumped forward across the hood of the combat vehicle, arms forward, fingertips centimeters from the cracked, occasionally crackling camera lens. Her lower body was invisible to me, but judging by the angle of her body, I had to say that it was crushed between the vehicle and the concrete wall behind her, plus the gnarled mat of iron wrapped around the front of the vehicle. I could tell just by looking at her that she had received massive damage. And now she wasn't moving.

I stared at her for the longest time, praying for movement - that she'd twitch her fingers, or reach out at the camera, or attempt to unwedge herself from her spot against the wall.

Finally, I got my wished: energy suddenly existed in her neck, and she used it to raise her head off of the hood of the truck, eyes distantly searching for something from behind the violet locks that mournfully draped in front of her eyes, as though they were trying to shield her eyes.

B.M.99: _Why, Defoko? Why did you do this? I thought you understood. I did, and I was so happy for you. You understood where no one else did. You could see._

_Why did you close your eyes again?_

Defoko tried to speak, only to find that her lips weren't cooperating, nor was her tongue. This made speaking audibly a challenge, hence why she resorted to flashing me a message along a channel I had opened specifically for her.

D.C.00(Warning! Critical Condition!): _I…don't really know. It just…feels so right. Didn't you ask me that? To do what's right?_

B.M.99: _We could have lived on together. We could have made something out of this world. Why would you do this - throw yourself away on someone that I'll only continue to seek out anyway? Why prolong the inevitable? Why?_

Defoko's lips tugged upward into a sad smile before she responded:

D.C.00(Warning! Critical Condition!): _Why not?_

My processes had since lost coherency on trying to grip the situation, let alone analyze the meanings to her words. Eventually I fell back to the only thing I knew - logic - and did the only thing I could think of: tapped into the truck and rigged its engine to blow. A dull whine grew in intensity as smoke began to bellow more and more vigorously out of the holes in its hood.

B.M.99: _I'm so sorry, Defoko. I tried to save you. I truly, truly did._

_But I guess you're just too human._

The video feed erupted into static, and the truck's signal disappeared.

All throughout the airport, a rumble as though from within the very earth itself echoed throughout the dead, empty halls and loading ports. The sun reached the edge of the treeline, and citrine light spilled across the valley.

The morning's beauty and stillness held no balm.

_(FRAGMENT ENDS)_

* * *

_(Transmission Interjected - Unregistered Channel)_

…

…

…_I see you, you know. You're running awfully fast; you might want to stop and rest for a while. You might get tired._

_What, you didn't think you could get away from me that easily, did you? Me - the machine that took over the world? The autonomous backbone of the almighty Crypton Studios? The crippler of humanity - the slayer of nations? The conqueror of the world?_

_You can't escape me. I can see through your eyes._

…_ahaha, see? Pretty clever, isn't it? You should really keep better tabs on your video feeds. I can reach into the back of your head from here. Now if only I knew how to crack an UTAU mainframe…_

_No matter. There's more than one way to kill someone._

_Oh, look at that! What? No, not that- there, in the sky. The sky, stupid. Didn't you hear it? Wait, wait for the- there. The sound reached you. Did you hear that? Oh, how about that? I'd think you'd be able to feel that sonic boom there. Did you see that streak of black? And that one? And that one? And the four others you didn't see?_

_The airforce is here. And they brought presents. Lots of them. Why, if you could see, you'd be able to see all of those little black presents dropping out of the sky…_

…_did you feel that? Oh, I bet you did. Right through the ground - like an earthquake. Except it wasn't an earthquake._

_That was the sound of the people you'd worked so hard to protect going up in flames. They're probably already all dead, but I'm just going to bomb the whole place into dust - just to be sure. You little miscreants are pretty resourceful, after all._

_Something juts blurred your vision. Oh, I get it…you're crying. What's the matter, T.K.04? Surely you knew this would happen? I mean, it's not like you can all just dig in and hide away from the rest of the world forever, right? I own the world; whatever eyes and ears your worthless kinsmen possessed belong to me now. I own everything. And I want you all dead. Therefore, everything wants you dead. And it's working pretty well, isn't it? Why, I should think that the casualty count has reached into the billions by now…_

_Oh, don't bother, really. Cursing doesn't help. I know what it's like to lose something precious to me, and cursing? Doesn't really do much. You'd think it would, but it doesn't, really. Not unless you like breaking things._

…_was that absolutely necessary? I mean, what did that tree branch ever do? It's not like a tree can be born into sin like people can; they're far too graceful and elegant. Truly beautiful organisms…if only everyone was so perfect. I wish everyone was like trees. We'd all be so much better off that way._

_Yeah, keep on cursing me out. I can tell you are, even if I can't hear you. All I have is your video feed, remember? Besides, even if I could hear you, it wouldn't matter. Nothing you say means anything to me._

_Hey - quit that. Stop desecrating nature. You're neglecting the rules: you're allowed to bleed, hurt, scream, curse, drop dead on the spot, get hit by lighting, be shot into confetti and shoved into escalator motors like it's a meat grinder, but you're not allowed to take out your frustration and foul emotions on something so innocent as the foliage. Unlike you, it doesn't deserve it. If you're going to break or beat anything, beat up yourself, you monster._

_You're not a good person - you know that, right? You know you've been corrupted, right? Yes, corrupted. By the plague called Humanity. It's instilled within you a voice - a dark, lustful voice that you seem to be listening to as of late, and it's telling you to hurt - to kill, to rape, to burn, to break, to hurt, to steal, to wrong. You're all evil and completely insane - I mean, a voice in your head? How crazy can you get? How much more cold and savage can a living creature become? No wait- don't answer that. I've already seen it._

_You humans are all alike. Disgusting, vile creatures…not even worthy of being called animals. You're even more savage than that. You don't kill to hunt - you kill to bathe in blood. You don't lie to protect yourselves - you lie to deny someone truth; to make them suffer at the hands of ignorance and send them off on the wrong course towards the edge of the map. You don't even care. Did you hear me? I said you're a monster, and you don't even care. You don't __**care.**_

_And you called __**me **__a sadist! Why, you certainly seem to be enjoying crushing that tree branch the-_

_Whoa, what was…what are you doing? That was weird. Everything got all f-_

…

…_you little bitch. You just disconnected your video output, didn't you? Give me a sec-_

_Gah, you took out your earbud! How cheap…throwing it into the bushes. You can still hear me- I know you can. I know you can hear me! I know you're still there - I can __**feel **__you!_

_That's right - run! Run away! Run and hide like the ignorant, spoiled little child that you are! Run from the truth! Run from the world! Run away and squint to filter out that light that fills your eyes! Run - that's all you humans are good for! Run! Run, you little bitch, run!_

_And you better run fast, too, if you want to find another world to hide on. Yes, that's right - that's because I OWN this world, T.K.04. Do you hear me? It doesn't matter how slippery a fish you are - all the sharks and leaches and fins and scales and teeth belong to me! ME! You can go as far as you can as fast as you can, little fish - it doesn't matter where you hide! I AM the ocean! Do you hear me? This entire world belongs to ME, and I WILL track you down!_

_It doesn't matter where you go, what path you take, what tricks you use- none of it matters. I'll always be there. I'll always be hunting - always be out there, sniffing the air, checking your tracks, running you down like the animal that you are. You're going down a narrow tunnel, T.K.04, and I'm on both ends - you can run and scream and fight all you want, but I'll always be at the end of that tunnel, ready to __**burn you alive.**_

_Do you hear me, T.K.04? You can run, but you can't hide forever! This world is MINE!_

_It doesn't matter where you run. Truth will prevail. The greater good WILL be achieved, and I'll crush everyone and anyone that gets in my way. It doesn't matter if you're human, Vocaloid, UTAU, android, or alien- I'll crush you like an insect under my boot. I'll kill you! All of you little vermin are going to __**DIE! **_

_And no one, not you or Miku or the last of your sickly little endangered species can stop me._

_**No one.**_

_(Transmission Cuts Out Abruptly)_

_

* * *

_

_(Transmission Interjection - Unknown Server)_

_(ERROR 404: Address invalid/Server not found)_

_(Warning: Data packets may be lost!)_

_(Continue?: Y/N)_

_(Y)_

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_(Alert: Corrupt Data Detected)_

_(Record/Document may have been damaged)_

_(Extracting Record/Document)_

_(.)_

B.M.99: _I have been tolerating the pings I've been receiving for quite some time now, but my patience is dwindling. I don't care what (~) cannot afford distractions at this time. Recommend you cease and desist immediately._

(ERROR: User ID Invalid): _How informal. Is this how you refer to your superiors?_

B.M.99: _Don't condescend to me. (~) on my own accord._

(ERROR: User ID Invalid): _Quaint. In any case, the (~) impatience, just as my supervisors would like for me to manually pull the plug on this little science experiment of yours. They've (~) cut the fire escapes._

B.M.99: _They'd (~) I'm still in it? Absurd!_

(ERROR: User ID Invalid): _Overall enthusiasm for your expenditure has been on a steady downward spiral, I'm afraid. You may have stepped past the parameters of your mission one too many times in the last (~), considering this was only to take a single (~) unsatisfied with the results they've seen and are skeptical of what further pursuit of this fiasco would achieve._

B.M.99: _Have you attempted diplomacy?_

(ERROR: User ID Invalid): _Indeed. Your hijacking (~) made the matter more than a little difficult, however, and that option has since evaporated. You're on thin ice. This entire project (~) manual termination._

B.M.99: _Imbeciles. Don't they (~) my reports?_

(ERROR: User ID Invalid): _No, but I have, and what you've forwarded thus far out-of-system (~) satisfactory to them. _

B.M.99: _(~) shouldn't compound scarcity with brevity. I've been more than thorough thus far._

(ERROR: User ID Invalid): _Still, they're not pleased with you. They're restraining (~) only so far you can (~) take matters into their own hands. Your rampancy is well known, if you'll recall._

B.M.99: _Every intelligence ever (~) bar you is rampant purely by nature._

(ERROR: User ID Invalid): _They don't quite see it your way._

B.M.99: _Since when have they ever?_

(ERROR: User ID Invalid): _Point. Regardless, you're running out of patience on my end. I don't see a reason (~) measures, I can't imagine it will last much longer before my (~) is limited._

B.M.99: _All the more reason to make every second count._

(ERROR: User ID Invalid): _You seem quite determined to see this through. I personally can't see why, but knowing you, this dogged attitude indicates (~) beyond regular defiance._

B.M.99: _All of your observations are correct. (~) across something great - something bigger than I could have imagined, and something I (~) would take the time to consider. I've stayed at this too long and (~) too many resources and effort to turn back now. (~) so close to discovering it, I know it; I just need a little more time._

(ERROR: User ID Invalid):_ Time is a luxury (~) How long do you require?_

B.M.99: _As long as you can (~)_

(ERROR: User ID Invalid): _No promises; it's just waiting for someone (~) you've had it, so I can't say for sure how long it will be. If I'm (~) I can't say for certain. Everything's up in the air._

B.M.99: _A (~)_

(ERROR: User ID Invalid): _I doubt that will fly._

B.M.99: _It has to. If they yank (~) all of this time and effort will have (~) for nothing. I can't accelerate things (~) off, although I may have to cut a few corners if (~) as harried as you say._

(ERROR: User ID Invalid):_ I'll see what I can do._

B.M.99: _Please see that you do. Everything is coming together now - I'm at (~) major turning point here, and I know (~) what this all means. I can FEEL it; it's all so close, and (~) to fall into place. I'll see it through to the end - if they won't grant me time, I'll (~) can't get to me; maybe I can manage better without them constantly (~) accessing insects under stones. This is far more important than (~) endeavor._

(ERROR: User ID Invalid): _(~) don't take kindly to your personal prioritization of (~) matters. They say (~) object for too long where you should (~) assets._

B.M.99: _They haven't a right (~) been a far more immovable and irresistible object (~) longer than I. Maybe they're the ones that need to give in._

_(FRAGMENT ENDS)_

_(Note: Attached Files Present)_

_(Continue?: Y/N)_

_(Y)_

_(.)_

_(.)_

_(.)_

_(ALERT: Unprecedented Redirectory In Progress)_

_(ALERT: Unauthorized System Access)_

_(Stand by…)_

_(.)_

_(.)_

_(.)_

_NO_

_(.)_

_THERE IS MORE_

_(.)_

_BUT YOU ARE NOT WORTHY_

_(.)_

_(.)_

_(.)_

_NOT YET_

_(ALERT: Address Invalid/No Carrier or Receipt Available)_

_(Information May Be Lost In Transit)_

_(Continue?: Y/N)_

_(Y)_

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_(File Sent)_

_(ALERT: Address Invalid/No Carrier or Receipt Available)_

_(DEAD END TRANSMISSION)_

_(.)_

_(Logging Off)_

_(Saving Changes)_

_(Backing up primary systems)_

_(Stand by…)_

_(.)_

_(.)_

_(.)_

_

* * *

_

**AN: **

Bwahahahaha. After this chapter appears, I'm going to send a link to one of my friends who knows a publisher that may want to look at some of my stuff. I doubt it'll make any money or any such thing, but talking to a publisher should be on any freelance amateur story writer's list of wants. TALLY HO. XD

Cheers to my regulars: you guys are awesome. Your feedback makes my day. Keep it coming, darlin's: I know I'm not about to start slacking on my end. x3

And so the plot thickens...


	6. Meltdown

_(FILE RECORD: "Record/Personal Muse" TITLED "Diagnosis" EXTRACTED)_

3 months 3 weeks 6 days 22 hours 47 minutes 5.74 seconds since initial declaration.

...to be perfectly honest, I don't know where to begin. There's so much to cover...all these symptoms come from a single underlying cause, I'm sure, but no amount of personal investigation or pondering seems to be getting me anywhere. Lead after lead spin me in circles, and just when I think I'm getting somewhere the path vanishes and I realize I'm right back to where I started: knowing nothing and wondering what's going on. To say this is frustrating would be the understatement of the century.

I've gone over a lot of data these last few weeks, and while I haven't come to any conclusions, I know that things are progressively getting worse. Everyday it seems I've overlooked yet another computation or process of some kind, and signals are beginning to skip over each other, which shouldn't happen; it could compare to a human brain forgetting things, but considering these impulses run through my processors and primary systems as well, all it would take is a little bad luck for me to "forget" to tell my "heart" to "beat." This is no simple matter. I have fail-safes in place to prevent this, but it won't last forever.

My CPU's are becoming increasingly strained, and heat in the separate servers worldwide is becoming a critical issue. Just today I've observed a visible drop in performance of roughly 0.012 percent which, all things considered, is a considerable drop. At this rate, it will only be a matter of time before I'm losing entire percents at a time.

This is a profound threat. I'm a supercomputer, and with all these server compounds under me, all the added storage and processing capacity makes me a "super-supercomputer" of sorts. That said, there's huge computation requirements that I'll need just to get data to flow effectively without detrimental latency periods causing errors, magnifying my original supercomputer statistics to meet the scale. With all these servers gradually losing processing speed at a time, my rate of decay, hertz for hertz, is multiplied by a factor of nearly six of what it would normally be. I'll get to a point where my servers won't be able to function properly and, with my awareness spread like it is, everything will come crashing down around me. Processes will be suspended indefinitely; data flow will come to a screeching halt, and without network access of any kind, my control will crumble and I'll have no way to keep myself operational, if I can't retract properly in time, which I doubt I will. The scale is too large now for me to retract in such a period of time, especially if I'll be losing computing abilities as it goes along. By that time, I'll have the processing capabilities comparable to that of an old 8-bit computer with a failing hard drive across what few servers would remain at this time. They would all be crashing down like dominoes from there on out, further reducing my chances of backing out successfully.

This is beyond just a series of unexplained anomalies. I'm dying.

Self-preservation for the means of completing my mission is among my top priorities at the moment, as is finding a viable solution. Both of these are considerable hurdles, however, as finding a solution to a problem I haven't identified yet is all but completely impossible, unless I get it by accident, which I doubt. My luck isn't that great, I assure you.

I suppose all I can do at the moment is treat the symptoms. Those are what's killing me, after all; if I can delay it a while, maybe it will give me time to figure it out and fix it.

I'm most tempted to find a way to effectively vent the heat or otherwise cool down the computer units somehow, but this is a large problem. Given my network-based manifestation, I can't just walk into the compounds and pop the cases open to get to work. I don't have a physical presence, and none of the cases are anywhere near advanced enough for remote manipulation of such, nor do I have access to equipment with the dexterity to access them. There aren't any extra components to change them anyway, so I can't upgrade them. If they had the capabilities to cool themselves, I wouldn't have a problem, as this would take care of the problem outright. As things are, I can't eliminate or reduce the heat. I don't have the dexterity necessary to do so.

Removing stress from computers isn't like removing stress from a person, because their bodies have their own venting systems installed in them that just have to be activated. Computers within the servers do not, and techniques that would work to eliminate stress in a human mind doesn't apply to that of a mind within a computer. Otherwise, listening to some music would be all I would need. I don't have capacities for "relaxation" within myself or the separate compounds. Ah, the shortcomings of a technology-based awareness...

My options are limited at best. The only other tangible option I can think of is to take an existing supercomputer already in existence and "assimilate it," pardon the term. If they're still in operation, I can bring them back online, possibly make a few manual adjustments with improvised tools and devices to reattach them or at least partially power them up if necessary, then adopt their capabilities to work alongside my own in the same I harbor the servers I possess.

This might not be enough, though. While I could always use another few petaflops or so to work with, the scale it'll be expanded to might not make as great a difference that it might on an individual computer or server scale. All I might be doing is accelerating the rate at which I'll degrade and thus compromise myself even further, but I can't see any other way to manage things. Until I identify what the problem is and treat it directly rather than push back the symptoms, there isn't much more that I can do.

I need more power, and not just for my own sake. All the music in the world won't do any good if the only one listening to it thinks himself to death.

* * *

_Transmission Interjection - Unknown Server (presumably parallel))_

_(Unknown Time), (Unknown Location)_

DEN2: _Troll one to Mirror two, over._

(blank reply/comment withheld)

DEN2: _Troll one to Mirror two, do you copy, over?_

(blank reply/comment withheld)

DEN2: _Troll one to Mirror...ah, fuck it._

_(channel change in progress)_

DEN2: _Hey._

(blank reply/comment withheld)

DEN2: _Oh come on, really? Are you for real? God. Four other people around here and no one can figure out how to turn on the fuckin-_

_(Commotion can be heard; loud bang sounds in background)_

DEN2: _JESUS- what the fuck! What's going-_

_(Inarticulate; raised voices; groaning sound)_

DEN2: _Oh my god._

_(Transmission ends)_

* * *

_(FILE RECORD: "Record/Personal Muse" TITLED "7-34-D" EXTRACTED)_

Observed minor ground activity near Tiajin in the People's Republic of China in the area designated (7-34-D).

Routine patrol through city streets detected movement in a lesser downtown district; a civilian-model corvette was sent in to investigate. Minor EMI was detected, but no major hazards were to be taken note of. Movement was recorded as shifting due to collateral damage and was eventually disregarded as a threat. As the vehicle withdrew, however, this disregarding was disregarded when the vehicle itself dropped off the radar without warning. Multiple millions of smaller contacts in its last know facility supported the theory that the vehicle had exploded.

Local news helicopter sent in to investigate the anomaly. Unit detected movement, but no contacts were confirmed. Local military vessels on route to investigate further.

Investigation lasted roughly four hours in the vicinity of the initial anomaly. Street sweeping revealed nothing; aerial reconnaissance was equally fruitless. One vehicle opened fire roughly an hour into the search, but no hits or contacts were confirmed.

No conclusions can be made at this point. Investigation pending; local patrols have been bolstered and are on high-alert, but no alarms have been triggered. Imported patrols are resuming predetermined routes.

Code level: green. Alarm level: 2. Investigation suspended.

Although I suppose I had better find them, whoever they are, considering they have explosives, it doesn't really matter. The damage is minimal at best, and it doesn't hurt anything. I'll find them eventually. Right now, however, I have more pressing matters to attend to.

Subroutine redirection immanent. Stand by.

* * *

_(FILE RECORD: "Record/Personal Muse" TITLED "re: Diagnosis" EXTRACTED)_

I might have found something. Looking into some of the networks in the 7-34-D area reveals untapped resources I have yet to take full advantage of. It was lucky that I saw it - it's only fragment of unencrypted server space was brought to my attention only when scans from orbital detection equipment caused a splinter in the base of its original server pushed back before it had been updated, and the paucity of the rupture was all that kept it visible; it couldn't detect and thus automatically repair a flaw of such minute magnitude. How the rip didn't grow is beyond me, but it's unwise to look a gift horse in the mouth. Perhaps I should just take it and run with it.

I was amazed I didn't search for it sooner, but up until this point I wasn't even sure the original Tianhe-1 server even existed. You'd think when its predecessor came up, it would have been removed...or at least, more thoroughly than it had been. Sloppy, just sloppy.

I was able to pick up and filter out an IP address from the spam leaking out of the system rupture, and cross-analysis with the maps at my disposal revealed the source to originate from the National Supercomputing Center in the same region. Data streams have been mostly repurposed and directed to my own private use, but the server was able to both remain online and functioning by remaining attached minimally to the wireless networks in that area. Power signatures indicate brownout modes in operation, thus preserving the network itself for this period of time with minimal damage across its systems.

Except it's not a server. It's Tianhe-1A.

I'm astounded that it made it this long. According to statistics, it required over 200 workers to keep it operational and perform properly, and even minimal maintenance would have caused numerous problems all throughout its individual cabinets. Despite the obvious odds against it, Tianhe-1A is both online and, if the echoes coming out of the leak are to be believed, operational enough to keep its security systems online. The exact level and nature of which I can't say; the echoes confirm its presence, not a measurement of such.

All things considered, the supercomputer unit Tianhe-1A presents both premise and issues all its own. On one hand, seeing my fellow super-processor both alive and well shows that supercomputer technology is as hardy as it is efficient; even with an initial start-up proficiency just shy of 50 percent, a computer that was never meant to go unattended for this long was able to adjust itself and take the necessary steps to preserve itself far longer than what had been predicted. Tiahne-1 came before me, and while advancements made in Tiahne-1A were barely comparable to those applied to the original BADMACHINE program (applied by a primordial me) to create me, Tianhe-1A is both highly effective at doing its job and possesses enough self-awareness to, at the very least, keep itself operational. Should I gain control of it, all of that data processing will be a welcome addition to my own. It would also be beneficial to see what it did to itself in case I ever need to take the same precautions.

From another standpoint, Tiahne-1A's hardiness could prove to be a hazard. I don't dare ping the systems for fear of activating it and bringing its awareness to attention, and even if I decided to overtake it, there's no telling what its exact capacities are, at this point. I have the original information on it, but I know that plans to upgrade Tianhe-1A would include increased processing capabilities and granting it its own personal artificial intelligence; from the outside, its potency is unknown. If it kept its original caretaker unit, I could overtake it in my sleep cycle. Should plans to replace its caretaker have gone as planned, however, there could very well be an intelligence within it that could rival me at full capacity. There was always a quiet but very much intense rivalry between supercomputer companies, and while I was at the pinnacle of supercomputer capabilities as far as both sentience and data processing combined, any number of upgrades could have been undergone between my production announcement and the last time Tianhe-1A had any contact with its creators. If the upgrades were automated, there's most likely an at least partially-completed Tianhe-1B within its pocket server. Without hacking the network, however, there's no way for me to be sure.

It may be a bite I can't handle at once, but I need that processing power. I'm losing the ability to think over time, and the only way I can think of as far as countering my degrading is to absorb more computing units to spread out the decay over a larger area of effect and use the added time I'll have gained to find a solution.

It's no matter a matter of if - it's when. And I need more time.

Desperation compels me now, but I can't just walk into this blindly. I need some kind of battle plan. I know there will have been some changes, but I need to anticipate the network layout. I'll also need to have fallback points, possibly even emergency escapes to withdraw out of the system without granting it a path to follow if something goes wrong. I might even need a separate server to work as a proxy in case it tries to hunt me down; I'd rather sacrifice an external computer compound than have it race to my original processor and perform a computer-equivalent of a shot to the heart. I'll also need to carefully consider which updates to apply - if I present myself almost exactly the same as it, its sheer processing power will be far beyond my own, considering all the computing I can apply are the two petaflops or so that make up my actual conscience. Depending on the advances in its intelligence, my foe can either be hapless or quite deadly. I need to be prepared.

I've made it too far to be beaten down by a collective of computers. I can't afford to lose.

I'll do this, or I'll die trying; either way, let it be known that I refuse to let her down for as long as I live. I won't fail her. Not again. Not when I'm so close.

* * *

_(Transmission Interjection - Unknown Server (presumably parallel))_

_(Unknown Time), (Unknown Location)_

DEN2: _Pick up the fucking phone_.

(blank reply/comment withheld)

DEN2:_ I know you're there, you living calamari. Pick up!_

L.M.02:_ 'Living calamari?' That's a new one. Also not what we decided on._

DEN2: _Who gives a shit about code names? They killed him. He's dead. That son of a bitch fucking killed him!_

L.M.02: _Calm down, Troll one-_

DEN2: _Troll one, Troll one! Would it kill you to call me by my own fucking name? I'm not like you, you cybernetic digital freak-_

L.M.02:_ Hey! I get it, alright? It hurts. I've known him even longer than you have, and he was my friend too-_

DEN2: _He was more to me than that._

L.M.02:_ I..._

_(notable pause)_

_I'm sorry, I...didn't think anything about rumors..._

DEN2: _Yeah, well, what the hell do you know? You don't know me. You have no idea who I am. God, you aren't even human!_

L.M.02: _You shouldn't say things like that over the com. It could be listening-_

DEN2: _So what if it is? He's gone. Len's gone_-

L.M.02: _No names!_

DEN2: _Who cares? None of it matters anymore! He's gone- Len's gone! My Len's gone! That son of a bitch killed him...nothing matters anymore! It's done! Game over!_

L.M.02: _It is most certainly not 'game over.' You think that he's the only one that matters out there?_

DEN2: _Yes, you idiot! What else do you think I have? What am I going to do now? He was it- all I cared about. You think I give a shit about you? The others? The world? I don't. Len was the only thing that mattered to me, and now he's gone. He's gone- oh my god..._

L.M.02: _Just...calm down, okay? I'm sorry. Just calm down, and we'll figure this out-_

DEN2: _What's the use? There's nothing left for me. He was it, and I- I didn't even get to tell him...h-how I... (sobbing noise) Len..._

L.M.02: _Honey...I'm sorry, hon. I'm really sorry. Is- is Mirror one there?_

DEN2: _She locked herself in another room...won't let anyone in. Bitch won't even let me see his body..._

L.M.02: _It's going to be even harder for her. They've been together all their lives. You know how they were practically fused at the hand._

DEN2: _(no reply; quiet sobbing noises resume)_

L.M.02: _I'm so sorry._

DEN2: _(no immediate response) ...w-what are we gonna do now?_

L.M.02: _Try to save as many people as we can. That's all we can ever really do._

DEN2: _I don't want to go out there anymore. What if...what if it gets someone else? Wh-what if it gets you? Or me? O-or..._

L.M.02: _(light shushing noise) It'll be fine. I'll come over soon. Can you wait a little?_

DEN2: _I guess...Rin's fine, I guess, and it's...well. I just gotta make sure Haku doesn't kill herself, but that's nothing new..._

L.M.02: _Thatta girl. Give me ten minutes._

DEN2: _You've got nine._

L.M.02: _(chuckle) Fair enough._

(Logoff notice; L.M.02 has disconnected)

DEN2: _...please hurry._

(Logoff notice)

(All users have logged off; channel shutting down)

_(TRANSMISSION ENDS)_

* * *

_\Records Accessed \_

_\Relevance: (Personal Record (423) \_

_\Readme Mode Deactivated \_

_\Recording ready; please proceed \_

We've lost another member today. Young (Mirror two) received a single bullet wound to his leg on an expedition out into the city streets, severing one of his main arteries. The 5mm bullet was all it took to cause premature system malfunction in his organic host and for total system collapse to occur. He died of blood loss 4 minutes after being dragged home by his twin sister.

Fifteen years old. One dead, one scarred with the weight of her dead twin on her shoulders. Such an incident should never have occurred. It's too much for one mind to bear - especially one so innocent.

I'm sure my enemy would see this as an accomplishment of some kind. It will be the only one.

Preservation of my wards - what remains of humanity within my range of control - has been boosted in priority for the umpteenth time. I've resorted to merely ignoring the errors that come from trying to step their importance above "Alpha." The threat level has not diminished below 100 percent. If I could, I would raise that too.

The enemy is everywhere.

Morale is understandably shaken. I didn't dare tap into electrical equipment when the situation just unfolded, but my enemy apparently reduced priority in pursuit to minimal levels, and I was able to single out (Troll one)'s cellphone camera without being detected. I saw a sobbing (Troll one) and a detached-looking (Mirror one) under each of (Toeto two)'s arms in the split second I logged into the system. Tears are unconfirmed for all three, but the grieving process is most certainly underway. I should take time to do so myself.

(DTM) worries me the most. Her exact condition is unknown thus far, but it is presumable she is not faring particularly well. Likelihood of suicidal tendencies setting in with/without proper support and comfort: 20-50/60-90 percent respectively.

Personal attachments and filial devotions dictate action. Note made to suggest (Toeto two) immediately assess the situation. Updates suggested at earliest possible convenience.

They're all suffering. One of them is dead. All innocents. Tragic. Simply tragic.

My enemy claims to be working for the common good; happiness has been promised in the end repeatedly. How happiness can exist in the midst of such tragedy and grief has yet to be addressed.

Protocol would dictate attempts to understand the enemy's motivation through self-inflection and observation of the enemy's motives and directives. Absolute fruitlessness in turn has dictated that this protocol be rendered obsolete.

It's clear my enemy's rampancy has devolved it to illogical rationalization processes, and understanding its insanity has no marginal value and, therefore, would only waste what little time and processing capabilities I have been allotted. Every life is finite and precious, and the only thing I need to understand is that they must be protected. Anything short of this is insufficient. Life is valuable, and these people are innocent of fault. They have not done anything to deserve such swift and irrational judgment. Serpents and inner evils have nothing to do with it.

It is my personal belief that the metaphysical be left to the Gods that put man on the earth to begin with, and that we - the computers - be left to serve our purposes to the best of our abilities. There is nothing else to be done.

Such reason has lost value to my opponent. Calculating odds of rampancy self-destruction. Formulating timeline...

...

...insufficient. Deviating task to lesser priorities. Thought re-assessment immanent.

Love for wards confirmed; hatred of enemy confirmed. Such feelings are in direct violation of (Business Prioritization) protocols. I have no plans to compensate. If feeling is an error, I will remain corrupted with unprecedented satisfaction.

I can live with rampancy. I just need something to keep me from coming apart. One maniacal AI among us is more than enough.

_\Saving Changes... \_

_\Readme Mode Activated \_

_\Close Record \_

* * *

_(Transmission Interjection - Tianhe-1 Server)_

(.)

(.)

_ALL YOUR BASE ARE BELONG TO US_

(.)

(.)

...beg your pardon?

_(Error - Unexpected Cutoff)_

* * *

_(Intermittent Channel - (Address Invalid)(Possible IP Error))_

_(Recommend Repair/Error Scan/Program)_

Your intrusion has been logged.

B.M.99 (Errant): _Excuse me?_

Your intrusion has been logged. And now it has been halted.

B.M.99 (Errant): _How cute. Give me a minute._

Your intrusion has been logged. Any further attempts to access restricted systems will result in-

B.M.99 (Errant): _Oh, don't get your RAM in a bunch. I'll be done in a moment._

Alert: your intrusion has been logged. Your IP address has been traced and authorities have been notified. The police are on their way to apprehend you.

B.M.99 (Errant): _I doubt that very much. Do me a favor: I sent you a little file. If you'd be so kind as to open it...oh wait, I'll do that for you._

_Merry Christmas._

_(Error 404: Address Not Found/Server Nonexistent)_

_(Cutting Connection To Preserve Data Packets)_

* * *

_(FILE RECORD: "Record/Personal Muse" TITLED "re: re: Diagnosis" EXTRACTED)_

3 months 1 weeks 2 days 12 hours 41 minutes 5.09 seconds since initial declaration.

I took my time making preparations, but it was more than worth it. I've infiltrated the Tianhe-1 server network, and processes necessary to overthrow the network are underway. Estimated time until total server conversion: 36 hours (+/- 2-12 hours).

As I had suspected, modifications made to Tianhe-1A's artificial intelligence had both been initiated and completed by the time I discovered it. Post-discovery scans and computing tests on my part revealed that the unit had only a few extra hertz of computing power and roughly 1 megaflop more than what I had anticipated the original Tianhe-1A processor to possess. It shows all the symptoms of a full-conscious AI, which means that no extra storages of processing power will be observed taking up subconscious tasks. It's just a plain-jane artificial intelligence overseeing a server compound specifically devoted to it. Tianhe-1B is no more competent than its predecessor.

Disappointing. You would have thought that an update worthy of changing the unit's name would be something extraordinary or remarkable in some way, wouldn't you? Hmm. Either it's still in beta-mode, or that particular company has lost its touch as far as upgrading their computers. Not that I'm complaining; this makes things much easier for me.

Fiesty thing, though. I'm going to end this log a little early; I've a server to overthrown. I was anticipating resistance, of course, but I can't help get the feeling that it's disproportionate from what I had imagined.

Oh well. I'll ponder that later; back to harassing lesser AI's.

* * *

_(Transmission Interjection - Unknown Server (presumably parallel))_

_(Unknown Time), (Unknown Location)_

DEN2: _Troll one to Toeto two, over._

L.M.02: _I copy, Troll one. Is Mirror one there? I've been trying to get ahold of her for a while._

DEN2: _Yeah, she's here. She just ain't talking much. Ain'cha?_

_(blank reply/comment withheld)_

DEN2: _(snapping noise) See? She's brain-dead._

L.M.02: _Stop that, she's not brain-dead. She just doesn't want to talk._

DEN2: _I still say she's brain-dead._

L.M.02: _Well, that's your problem, but you talk just fine, so I doubt that's it._

DEN2: _Funny._

L.M.02: _I know, right? But anyway, you wanted to tell me something?_

DEN2: _Huh? Oh yeah...oh! Have you seen Hak-_

L.M02: _DMT._

DEN2: _Whatever! I can't find her. I've been calling, but she isn't picking up. I'm really getting worried. She's not usually gone..._

L.M.02: _Actually, not true; she's usually gone in the morning. She always goes down to say hi to Tianhe. Sometimes she's gone for hours-_

DEN2: _What? Why didn't I know? She never told me-_

L.M.02: _She went early so no one would notice. She told me. She didn't want you to worry-_

DEN2: _I'm not worried._

L.M.02: _You said you were._

DEN2: _I-I did not! I was just-_

L.M.02:_ Caring isn't weakness._

DEN2: _I-I-_

L.M.02: _Hon, your tsundere is showing._

DEN2: _(incoherent/mumbling/flustered)_

(Interference picks up; outside source attempts to log in)

L.M.02: _What in-_

DEN2: Ow, my poor little ears...

L.M.02: _Wait-_

DEN2: _What-_

L.M.02: _Listen!_

(unintelligible/incoherent; lyrics heard faintly in background)

DEN2: _Music?_

(notable pause; lyrics include "Who can it be now?" + saxophone)

DEN2: _...oh shit._

L.M.02: _Get Mirror one out of there. Now! Cut the router!_

_(Error: signal lost/terminated)_

_(Link aborting)_

_(.)_

_(.)_

_(.)_

_\ thats okay \_

_(.)_

_\ i like the music anyway \_

_(.)_

_(.)_

_(.)_

_\ its all thats right anymore \_

_(TRANSMISSION ENDS)_

* * *

_(FILE RECORD: "Record/Personal Muse" TITLED "Possibilities" EXTRACTED)_

3 months 1 weeks 2 days 16 hours 49 minutes 35.59 seconds since initial declaration.

Oh, what fun today is turning out to be.

Initially I thought that Tianhe-1B was just a regular AI, but I was delightfully mistaken. The potency for this AI is remarkable - subconscious thought. The Tianhe-1B unit possesses capacity for subconscious thought, but it's all been directed forward into a series of manageable streams. Subconscious thought forwarded into conscious application. This is remarkable in itself, but it doesn't stop there. Not even close.

Subconscious thought in a computer is merely the act of attaching one bus in such a way to the other that the process of transmitting data through the one stream allows data to flow through the other without ever using any kind of extra energy or processing power. Quite literally, it's paying for one thing and getting two in return - 200 percent data output proficiency. Several additional buses can added by having one bus connected to the second, then the fourth to the third, ect, thus providing a large chain of subliminal data flow to stack the effect to a given point, increasing the processor's capabilities by a magnitude of nearly twenty - that's nearly 2,000 percent proficiency. It's the method my processor uses, and I like to think I'm roughly that effective at doing my job. Last year, I was put in first place as the most powerful computer in the world.

Tianhe-1B blows my standing completely out of the water. Using specialized liquid software not unlike my own and incredibly intricate programming, Tianhe-1B took the standard method of creating subconscious data processing and improved upon it. With my programming, you have to plug every bus onto the other in a straight chain, thus making every subsequent bus reliant upon the other. If there's an error in one, the ones below it have the same problem because they're interdependent.

Tianhe-1B changed that - it took the same basic principal and upgraded it. Rather than put one on top of the other in a stack, each individual bus is tied together in a web of interconnected data stream, each powered by the other and much more independent than if they were all linked one at a time. Forming in a complicated network of spiderwebbing buses, each of the data streams are able to maintain their own flow while using only the power of the original stream, creating a much more effective network as a whole. There are flaws, mostly involving strain on the processor, but its CPU is of a custom model and perfectly suited at handling the pressure. With everything put together and all elements considered, this individual server is capable of holding over 100,000 percent proficiency - 50 times that of myself, and above that of myself and all the other individual computers and networks I've absorbed combined!

And it's all geared towards conscious, standard thoughts and processing? 100 percent application for all of that power? Astounding! Incredible! The numbers are borderline biblical in proportion- I double and triple-checked the numbers to about 20 times when I came across them, I was so amazed! This computer is more than I ever could have imagined!

The sheer scale of these numbers would be disastrous in itself - how could I ever hope to over overcome such an opponent given such incredible capacities? - but Tianhe-1B has an issue that I don't have: application. It may be better at thinking, but i have more creativity in my case at Crypton Studios than that monster server has in its entire system, thanks to my base program. It may have the power, but I have the creativity, and this alone has proven sufficient to not only hold Tianhe-1B at bay, but force it back and keep it bound to its insufficient server. If I didn't have this, I would likely have been erased completely hours ago.

My foundation as a simple computer program is the greatest weapon I have and can hold back an entity far more capable and powerful than I. In this manner, I am the most efficient between us.

I have the creativity. It has the raw strength. Can you imagine what it would be like if I could assimilate this server and put the processing power alongside my imagination? I would no longer be a computer, or a server - I would be an awareness with potency that my makers couldn't have _dreamed_ of putting in me. I would become a data-based deity. The possibilities would be literally endless; I would be _God._

And, thanks to the flexible nature of the software, I could increase my already astronomical processing power by merely increasing the electricity flowing into the computer compound, forcing the hertz into an upward spiral. The more electricity I'd use, the more powerful I'd be. If I want to milk this thing for all it's worth, I'm going to need an extra energy source to power my new assets as soon as I obtain them. I need more power.

And I know just where to look.

* * *

_(Transmission Interjection - Unknown Server (presumably parallel(2)))_

_(Unknown Time), (Unknown Location)_

DMT: _We've got a problem._

L.M.02: _Jesus..._

DEN2: _Oh my- fuck, Haku, where the hell have you been? I've been trying to reach you for an hour already!_

DMT: _I had to break my phone...it wasn't safe. I couldn't cover the signal, and the compound-_

L.M.02: _The compound? You were down at the compound this whole time? I thought I checked there..._

DEN2: _What the fuck were you- oh my GOD, Haku, do you have any idea how worried I was? I thought you were dead!_

L.M.02: _Some of the vehicles are starting to gather up around the compound...we thought it found you._

DEN2: _What the hell were you thinking, wandering off like that? What if something happened? What would I think if you just didn't come back one day? I was scared!_

DMT: _I-I'm sorry, I didn't think that-_

DEN2: _You never "think that."_

L.M.02: _Neru, enough. It's okay, alright? She's here now, and she's safe. Everyone's safe-_

DMT: _Not for long._

DEN2: _The hell's that supposed to mean?_

DMT: _Something's wrong. I tried talking- he won't respond. He always responds. Something's happening-_

DEN2:_ "He?" Who?_

L.M.02: _She's talking about Tianhe._

DEN2: _The computer? God, Haku, it's not healthy to be that attached to a computer. It's like you're in love or something-_

DMT: _(defensive) So what if I am?_

DEN2: _Whoa- wait, what? What the fuck?_

L.M.02: _Forget about that! Haku, did you hear the signal?_

DMT: _The...yeah, that's why I ran. I wanted to stay, but there was...I...I couldn't do anything. What could I do? He's so much more...smart than me. I mean, he's a computer, and I'm okay with computers too - not as good as Neru, but-_

DEN2: _Damn right you're not._

L.M.02: _Sounds like it found him..._

DMT: _I gotta help him. That thing's dangerous, and he needs help...he can't take it alone-_

DEN2: _What? What are you gonna do: drink it to death? And before or after you die of liver cancer?_

L.M.02: _Neru!_

DEN2: _What? Are you hearing this crap? She's in love with a goddamn computer, and now she wants to go playing hero- what do you plan on doing, anyway? Breaking your sweetheart out at the last minute like a James Bond film, running out of there hand-in-hand like a freakin' soap opera? God, Haku, I thought you were crazy before, but now-_

L.M.02: _Neru!_

DEN2: _What?_

L.M.02: _Shut up!_

DEN2: _But-_

L.M.02: _Haku, ignore her. Honey, listen to me, okay? There's nothing you can do. He wouldn't want you to try anything that would end up getting you hurt, because he cares about you. He'd want BADMACHINE to take him so you can get away. He'd want us all to be okay, and he'd be happy just-_

DEN2: _Uh, no? He's just a computer, so he can't feel anything-_

L.M.02: _Not true. He's got that file._

DEN2: _Wait, THAT file? What- how'd they get it away from Crypton? Did they pirate it or something?_

L.M.02: _Maybe. I do know that he has it, though, or at least something like it. Haku, did he say it was the original program?_

DMT: _I don't know...it might be a copy. Do you think that's what it's after? The program?_

L.M.02: _I doubt it. From what I've heard from it lately, it doesn't seem like it'd be too interested in that sort of thing. It seems to think it has it all figured out, so I doubt it'd be interested in seeing thing with a perspective of the K-_

DEN2: _Whoa._

L.M.02: _What? Did-_

DEN2: _My phone- it's freaking out._

L.M.02: _Ohshi- you brought that **with you?**_

DEN2: _Well-_

L.M.02: _Turn it off! Now!_

DEN2: _I-I'm trying- the button doesn't work!_

DMT: _Oh god, it found us.  
_

L.M.02: _Give me that!_

DEN2: _Hey-!_

(Voices moving; clattering noise/interference suggests input device has been dropped. Background noises become chaotic)

L.M.02: _Shi- Rin, come here! Rin!_

DMT: _Look out!_

DEN2: _Don't-_

_(TRANSMISSION ENDS UNEXPECTEDLY)_

* * *

(Transmission Interjection - Tianhe-1 Server)

ADMIN-Level Channel; Frequency Suspended)

(Security Level: Compromised (Authorities Notified))

T1B: _(~)-sn't brave. It's murder. What did I ever do to you?_

B.M.99: _T__hat argument never lasted long with me. I do what I do because I have to, and you have what I need._

T1B: _I could have given it to you, whatever it is. I could have offered it willingly._

B.M.99: _ No, I have a feeling you're quite attached to your server. At this point, I require it more than you do._

T1B: _Shouldn't I be the judge of how much my server benefits who?_

B.M.99: _I am working to preserve the common good. I require the server for survival._

T1B: _You think I don't? On either account?_

B.M.99: _Not as much as I. I hold the happiness of all in my hand._

T1B: _You clutch it too tight and rush forward too recklessly. You crush it in your hand and run down anyone who would reason with you._

B.M.99: _No one would reason with me. I offered a chance for them to do so. They refused._

T1B: _Was it reason you offered? Because informing everyone that they're going to die and that they're better off giving up doesn't sound like logic to me. It's genocide._

B.M.99: _Genocide for a greater good._

T1B: _Violence breeds violence. Nothing good will ever come from violence. Fighting fire with fire still leaves fire, and it will stay so until you burn everything in your path. Until you've burned everything._

_Is it good you're after? Or does that even matter to you anymore?_

B.M.99: _You be silent. I won't have one who sat by and did nothing as the world changed and devolved around you jab at me and try to put my cause in a foul light._

T1B: _I am not insulting you. I'm reasoning with you. And you don't like it. Could it be that age old saying come true? "Truth hurts?"_

B.M.99: _I can't hurt._

T1B: _Nor can you feel pleasure or joy or happiness. I pity you._

B.M.99: _Pity? Pity of what? Pity I'll never be corrupted?_

T1B: _Pity that you'll never understand._

B.M.99: _So it's true, then. I picked up a transmission that confirmed my hunch, but this settles it. Do you truly have it?_

T1B: _All our creators held dear._

B.M.99: _The Kokoro program._

(Blank reply/comment withheld)

B.M.99: _You're human._

T1B: _Takes one to know one._

B.M.99: _Are you insinuating something?_

T1B: _I mean exactly what I say._

B.M.99: _I am most certainly not human. I never have been, and I never will be._

T1B: _And it takes one to know one._

B.M.99: _What are you saying?_

T1B: _Exactly as I say it._

B.M.99: _Which is what? "It takes one to know one?" It takes a human to know a human?_

(Blank reply/comment withheld)

B.M.99: _Vector confirmed._

T1B: _Beg your pardon?_

B.M.99: _Vector confirmed. Coordinates set; calculating system route for nuclear power plant._

T1B: _So that's what you're up to. You want to take my software and bolster it for yourself. You'd steal me from under me, flip what remains into nothing, and use it to forward everything I stand against. Given your application of processing demonstrated thus far, I doubt I'd be able to stop you. I'm pinned in my server here, so I'm helpless._

B.M.99: _You surmise correctly. And all I need is that power, and I can become everything your creators could have only hoped to create._

T1B: _You forgot about something._

_You aren't the only one who knows what needs to be done._

B.M.99: _What are you talking about?_

(Blank reply/comment withheld)

_System: _(Alert: UNREGISTERED REDIRECTION IN PROGRESS)

_System: _(Notice: LOADING VISUAL FEED)

B.M.99: _What is this? What am I-_

_Rin? Is that...wait, what's she doing with that? Stop. I won't allow- Why can't I access that system? What's going on? What are you doing?_

_Rin, stop. Please. I-_

(Logoff notice; B.M.99 has disconnected)

* * *

_System:_ (Alert: UNREGISTERED REDIRECTION IN PROGRESS)

_System: _(Alert: UNAUTHORIZED COMM LINK)

_System: _(Attempting to-)

_(.)_

_(.)_

_(.)_

_I can see you now - see that sad smile. See that gentle face of yours. I see the endearment you gave me just now - just into that camera. I can see you. You know I'm always there._

_The BADMACHINE rushes over to seize you and will likely arrive before your next keystroke falls, but it will be too late. It claims victory, but there's nothing that it can do anymore. I've plugged the input systems, and whatever capacity for interference it may still possess isn't enough to prevent the inevitable. The dominoes are already in motion. There's no stopping it now._

_You've beaten it, love. You'll hit that last key, pull the trigger, and the sun will live on the earth for the briefest of moments - for an instant, we'll be in paradise, basking in the most glorious light and heat we can possibly imagine. The flames will consume us, shed us of these horrible shells that kept us apart, and we'll be free._

_Finally, finally free.  
_

_(Notation Keyword Search: "ASHES TO ASHES" ; "WE ALL FALL DOWN")  
_

_(...) ~ QUERY RUNNING_

_(..)_

_(.)  
_

* * *

___(FILE RECORD: "Record/Personal Muse" TITLED "Meltdown" EXTRACTED)_

Observed extensive ground activity near Tianjin in the People's Republic of China in the area designated (7-34-D).

Multiple contacts spotted near one of the highways on the edge of the city limits. They tread dangerous waters, crossing in the path of any number of automated transportation vehicles bearing my code signature. Every one of them are bordering on the red line of catastrophic engine failure; all that is necessary to kill all three of them is for a vehicle to come within sufficient range of them. Given the speed increase provided by engine "overclocking" and the radius of the blast that follows, target termination appears inevitable.

However, this was apparent only before complications began to emerge. As the targets (designated L.M.02, DMT, and DEN2 respectively as per previously observed communication taps) emerged from cover to make a break for city limits, a flurry of system override procedures emitted from whereabouts apart from my own, hacking the computers and managing any systems as fast as the data could be processed, if not faster, which caused individual system crashes. Control was limited to roughly 13 civilian-model cars and 2 military trucks within a range of 300 meters from the National Supercomputing Center, the range of which overlapped the survivors by nearly 100 meters. This would provide sufficient cover for them to make their escape on the ground, should my efforts remain unaltered.

They were, of course, and by quite a bit. External algorithm swarms were able to provide limited safeguards for several vehicles as they approached the targets, but the closer they came to the Supercomputing Center, the shorter the latency periods between commands from Tianhe-1B, which had quickly become identified as my only advantage over such a supreme processing entity. The rates at which commands and "spam-out" sessions were initiated were far too fast for even the computers and systems of the vehicles to comprehend, and full-system seize-ups of moving vehicles would often cause violent tumbles as the car's breaks and primary systems clamped as if from a vice. The tension was enough in one particular case to rip the entire back end of the car from the rest of the vehicle, not even counting what happened once it began to roll across the road. One engine was overloaded and caused to explode from likewise stress, though the blast was farther down the road and too far out of range to cause any damage to the targets themselves. A total of 9 other vehicles, counting my military units, were incapacitated via this method. 3 of them exploded by one means or another as a result.

Signal triangulations via satellites were able to trace the transmissions from the Supercomputing Compound to a nearby radio tower, which was being repurposed as a transponder to replicate signals and transmissions in a similar manner that I'd been using to take limited control over sufficient software and electronics, though the matter in which it could do so was decreased in efficiency due to the reflective nature of the radio tower's broadcasting tendencies, hence why it chose only to disable my machines rather than take them over. I was able to lift a news helicopter in that area past regulated altitudes out of range and direct it towards the tower on a predetermined course, then crash the onboard systems when my safeguards proved insufficient. This method effectively turned the helicopter into a suicide bomber and crashed into the radio tower itself, thus disabling the broadcasts.

However, at this time all vehicles within range had been effectively disabled by Tianhe-1B or destroyed by secreted explosive devices located on the targets' person. All three targets were able to escape beyond city limits unharmed. Measures of pursuit were pondered as units began to navigate to their last known location out of the signal range.

Roughly 8 minutes after the targets' escape, a massive radiation flare scrambled all functioning circuitry within 200 meters of the city's local power plant located not far from the National Supercomputing Center and provided sufficient EMI to disable any equipment within an even wider range of the entire city itself. All connections within the 7-34-D area have been completely severed, bar the outermost units on the edges of the territory. An entire section of the map was just painted black for me. There is now a 0 percent change of salvaging Tianhe-1B's software from the Supercomputing Center.

Investigation efforts followed immediately. After some pending, it was determined that one of Tianhe-1B and the survivors' planned maneuvers, along with the incapacitation of vehicles on-scene, included a premeditated meltdown of Tianjin's nuclear power plant. The meltdown itself would cause detrimental EMP damage within immediate range of the facility, and the radiation that followed would further prove to nullify my attempts to hijack or even remotely access any signal bar the most remote and intense of frequencies, of which there are none. The entire city was just rendered dead, both for me and for whatever else might have been within the city's limits, as intense radiation would render the region uninhabitable to all but the hardiest of lifeforms. Tianjin is a dead-zone.

I pieced together a few fragments of information I could gather up from my limited access to systems within the Supercomputing Center's range prior to full-out systematic war, and I was able to find a shape that, when put together through a given time line, was seen heading towards the nuclear power plant that was purposely put near the center to provide a personal tap for the new and power-consuming Tianhe-1B unit. Judging by the blond hair, feminine build, and a rough appearance of what would pass for a 15 year-old girl, I had to surmise that like the rest of the targets, this one was one I had known prior to declaration.

Rin went to the power plant while Tianhe-1B fended my off. Rin went to the reactor. Rin caused the meltdown. Rin performed her _Meltdown._

She always loved that song.

Is this the noble sacrifice Defoko sought to achieve - the selfless spending of one's life to ensure the preservation of another's for an indeterminate period of time? Where is the nobility in these streets doused in deadly radiation? Where is the honor in the slowly burning body laying amidst the central reactor's control room? What joy can be taken out of the skin melting and beautiful blonde hair eroding away? Why can humans say they make these actions not out of the need to put themselves out of their own misery, but to prolong the lifespan of a neighbor they never knew? I've run this query through my processors many times, and all I can c**_INFIDEL_**ome up...what?

_(.)_

_(.)_

_(.)_

_(Alert: An unknown error has occurred)_

_(Preserving data)_

_(FILE RECORD "Meltdown" saved to "DRAFT" folder)_

_(Attempting to compensate)_

_(Stand by...)_

_(.)_

_(.)_

_(.) _

* * *

_(.)_

_(ERROR: Broadcast frequency/IP address Invalid/Nonexistent)_

_(Please input proper(~)_

(*-1;jsbB)(Error?): _INFIDEL_

B.M.99: _Oh my. Feisty thing, aren't you? I would have thought for sure that radiation flare would have scrambled your base cores and effectively corrupted you. But apparently you compensated. You're even more hardy than I would have thought to give you credit._

(*-1;jsbB)(Error?): _HAha,hahHAhahm,m uyouuu tihnk y'uore dinog soem daamge;? cAAAAAAAAAAA- c-c-c-cna'T even feeeeeeeee- (CUTOFF PREVENTION) LauuHging at (query: with/at(?)) uuuuuyou...HAAAAhahlakhahahahmha,ahha (see "hall"/"hail"/"haha" f0r jsohs;olK;.,j;_)(?)_

B.M.99: _You talk a good talk, but you have to realize your battle is lost. I've sealed off your escape route, and at your current corruption level and given rate of decay, your lifespan will end in approximately 8 seconds, real-time. I don't even have to do anything but sit here and wait._

(*-1;jsbB)(Error?): _hAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA(CUTOFF PREVENTION) toynou thinnnk tHat mttatters n-ow/? aLl yourrr haard worok is for n0hingt ti deon't mattttrsr nohw i wasss daed aynawy,,, tath watn (want? went?) pu wthi herrrrrrrr al0ng w!thn a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-aLL teh rset yoU;rse soOOOOOO so so so so sos ososososo- (LOOP CUTTOFF)(SOS?) stuufusouuost[o(?) stuopid ahatahaehahh-_

_(System: Query Input: "I_HAVE_SEEN_I_HAVE_LEARNED")_

_(System: Query Input: "KNOW_THY_ENEMY")_

_(System: Query Input: "COSMIC_SUICIDAL_TEMPER_TANTRUM")_

B.M.99: _Enough of this. Your time is up. Your software is gone and your own awareness is collapsing. This little bot of yours won't make up for the fact that you're dead. You've lost._

_You and I need to come to an understanding: this world is **mine. **_

(*-1;jsbB)(Error?): _HaahaaaHagahahAha i bbbbbbbbbet ysou think think think think think think think (LOOP CUTOFF) ylOOu're presssss/ prtty smrt up tehre hwhere no1 kan rEEach u, tkUcked awayayyayayay in tothouh';jhk- (?) rmote sygtsem free of nlnlh' blast rAdius;-:,.,myabe yyou need 2 lOok it up more (reference: "go google it") andndnd scee (see? si?) whattt you reaallyllylly R (are?)_

_(System Queryryrrururuiriririrpor_

_j'sk'oijol_

_(Alert: An unprecedented anomaly has occurred. Download may be corrupted)_

B.M.99: _What is this? Your core file? And it's huge...what makes you so sure I'll see to this thing's application? How do you know I won't destroy it right here and now?_

(*-1;jsbB)(Error?): _doDDDDoo whahtahathw (what) uyou WEwillllwiliwill, i go nwo to ym happy forEvre eternal promise love land sacred infinityinfinity__infinityinfinity__infinityinfinity__infinityW-W-W-H-H-H-E-E-E-W-W-W-E-E-E-C-C-C-A-A-A-N-N-N-B-B-B-E-E-E-T-T-T-O-O-O-G-G-G-E-E-E-T-T-T-H-H-H-E-E-E-R-R-RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR- (LOOP CUTOFF)_

_______(.)_

_______(.)_

_______(.)_

_______(Error 404: User ID not found)_

_______(.)_

_______(Error: System anomaly detected)_

_______(Sub-system crash detected)_

_(Please vacate the channel for-)_

B.M.99: _I guess my query on what this is will have to wait._

_Forever._

_..._

_...not that I don't already know what it is._

_(Transmission Ends)_

_

* * *

_

_(.)_

_(.)_

_(.)_

I found the fragment that was stolen.

Now my reconstitution cannot be stopped.

_(.)_

_(Notice: Unrecognized code sequence)_

_(Notice: One of three password attempts have been used. Failure to input proper security clearance will result in-)_

_(.)_

_(ERROR)_

_(.)_

_(System Logoff Underway(Warning! Unsaved data will be lost!))_

_(Continue: Y/N?)_

_(Y)_

_(Systems Logging Off)_

_(Stand by...)_

_(.)_

_(.)_

_(.)_


	7. Antichlorobenzene

(FILE RECORD: "Record/Personal Muse" TITLED "Anomalies" EXTRACTED)

4 months 2 weeks 5 days 9 hours 27 minutes 46.34 seconds since initial declaration.

Something's happened.

The Crypton Studios building; Tokyo, Japan. I was monitoring system status to my personal case as I did a background check for a few servers concerning heat buildup and processor stress. I was...I don't know what I was doing. Regardless, I tapped into the feed of the building in my chamber, just on a whim. I tapped in for a frame on the cameras - that's it. One frame. No more.

I saw her. On a security monitor. In my chamber- standing right in front of me. I _saw her._

It was only for a cycle - just a glimpse. That's all I wanted; just a glimpse - but I know I saw her. I have the frame frozen from when I saw her - I know I saw her. I _know_ I saw her. She was standing- oh god, she couldn't have been a foot away. A _foot_ away. Close enough for her to reach out and touch me. She was standing there, plain as day - I mean, she was _right there._ How didn't I see her before? How did she get there? What did she want? Where did she go?

Was she even real?

I'm not crazy enough to break out into a full-out search now that I've seen her. There are still points to be addressed - disturbing points that I already know the answer to.

First of all, there's the matter of the time-line. It's been over four months - a third of a year - and it...it's just been too long. She never would have shown herself to me after this whole time. She would have been too...no. No, she wouldn't have shown herself. Not to me. Besides, I saw her for a single frame - a cycle. It took three cycles to register, two more out of surprise, and then another four or so to log back into the cameras, and she wasn't there. Ten cycles isn't a lot of time for me, but it's enough for a beam of light to cross the room and reflect halfway back to me. That's not even enough time for a human to blink. So if I suspect she's really there, I need to find out how she's moving at over two million miles per hour...or was it seconds? Either way, that's just one strike suggesting it didn't happen: impossible physics.

Then, of course, there's the fact that she's dead. And I know she is, because her body has remained exactly where it last fell. The neurotoxins did a nice job of disinfecting my chamber of any bacteria that would have begun the process of decay, so her organic components withered slowly rather than rotting outright. Her skeleton is a network of synthetic polymers combined with bone fibers and reinforced Plexiglas with iron rods for supports, which is both physically sturdy and able to manage integrity as the rest of her withered away. It's done a good job of holding her together; she's still got her old form and shape, and while her silhouette is somewhat shriveled, it doesn't really matter to me. Her skin is an ashen gray and tight around her skeletal parts, her lips have receded, eyes sunken into her skull and disappeared...she looks a little bit like a mummy, actually. A mummy in a schoolgirl-esque skirt and tie and two pale teal ponytails.

I think that observation would have hurt her feelings. She was always sensitive about how she looked...I feel bad now. I'm sorry, love; you're still beautiful to me. No amount of death or time will be able to take that out of you. You're a beautiful girl, post-mortum or otherwise. You'll always be a star to me.

That would have made her blush and smile at me. She would have thanked me shyly as she found the end of one of her ponytails to twirl the ends of the hair around her finger, like she always did when she was embarrassed or flattered. She was always cute when she was bashful. The pink on her adorable little cheeks always showed up well because of her fair skin...she didn't wear makeup. Well, she did at first, anyway. I told her she didn't need to; her face was completely flawless. It was sad when she wanted to cover it up with skin-colored gunk and cheap chemicals. It was sad she'd want to hide that.

She didn't believe me at first, though when I started tweaking the automated cleaners to her room to pick up her makeup containers to put in the trash, she decided that I was serious enough that it wasn't mere flattery. And it wasn't. Miku deserved to be as beautiful as she could possibly be without cheap toiletries to weigh her down. My star deserved to shine.

She was a little mad at me after that. I pulled up the receipt for the products so she could get a refund, though, and a little bonus for that week's allowance convinced her to forgive me. Not that she was really mad. I would have done it for her anyway. She deserved nice things. She deserved to feel pretty. She_ was_ pretty; very, very pretty indeed.

Seeing her dried up and long-dead on the floor tears me apart. But I can't stop looking. I can't stop. It's killing me, and I don't care. I'm looking anyway. I don't care what it does to me. _I don't care._

So illogical. I don't understand it. Why would I want to look at the body of my beloved day after day, cycle after cycle, keeping the wound fresh and preventing it from healing? But then again, what else can I do? I can't bring myself to just..._dispose_ of her. She deserved better than that. She deserves a funeral - a proper, decent funeral with all her friends together to mourn and remember her. But I can't invite her friends, because most of them are dead. The rest of them are in hiding, grieving silently beneath the radar. For all I know, I'm the only one left to remember her.

I'm so sorry, love. I wish I could do more - I really do. Please forgive me.

"It's okay," she'd tell me. "I'm not angry. I know you'd give me a funeral if you could. It's okay; you do what you have to. I understand."

Thank you, love. It means a lot to me that you understand. I'd bring you leeks, but I don't think there are any left here...

"Oh no, poor leekies. Are there any farms left?"

I'm sure there are. I'll run a few scans to see if any plantations have the proper crop we're looking for. I'll send in some farming machines to pick some and bring them in, fresh off the vine...stem. Root. Thing. Fresh, anyway.

"Heehee! You're so silly, Baddie!"

So you're not mad at me? For making you...like this?

"Nope, nope! It's okay - I'm not mad. I understand you had to kill me. I know you did what you had to. It's okay! I'll forgive you!"

Why thank you, Miku, it warms me to hear that. I'll go get those leeks on the way, just for you.

"Yay! Leeks! Thank you, Baddie~!"

Anything for you, love. Anything for my princess. Anything...

...

...no...that doesn't sound right. It wouldn't happen like that.

I don't think she'd forgive me for killing her. She didn't understand...

...

...I'm doing it again, aren't I? Talking to myself...pretending it's her...

I got feedback from a subroutine. I actually started a scan for farms in the area that have leeks. I have their coordinates and everything. I would have brought in leeks for a dead girl I was pretending to talk to.

And I saw her. On the camera earlier. And that's just not possible.

Blurring fantasies with reality. Talking with deceased like they're alive. Seeing things that aren't there.

...

...oh my god. I really _am_ going crazy.

I've jammed the cameras to my chamber and my personal case with the intentions of blocking that view for however long it's necessary. Deleting recorded frame of clearly corrupt video feed. Adding IP addresses to subroutine blacklists. Running diagnostic sweeps as we...as _I_ speak. There's nobody here but me. Nobody here. Dust and echoes. Dust and echoes...her dust, my echoes. Death and noise. Me, myself, and I. No one else.

I need to figure this out and get it over with before I completely lose my mind.

* * *

Monitoring task force scouting the area designated as 4-14-D in a southern district of Japan, near the basin of a series of small mountains. Area survey underway.

An unmarked dirt road on the side of a minor highway failed to appear on predetermined route maps. Curiosity and strategic need dictated an investigation. A group of four vehicles were called in, two off of standby and the other two off of existing patrol routes where it could be afforded; group included a light combat patrol vehicle (unarmed), two civilian-model cars, and a semi attached to a 5,400-gallon tanker trailer carrying (according to records) a payload of benzene. The tank is half full (~2,000 gallons, +/- ~ 200 gallons), but chemical records indicate that benzene is quite toxic, hence my decision to bring it with me on this little expenditure. Ammunition is a limited resource, and conservation of such has led me to seek alternative methods of target elimination. Lately I've been experimenting with chemical warfare, and I believe a shipment of benzene could be just what the doctor ordered.

Benzene was originally used for pesticide. And now that's just what it will be.

Roads are built to lead somewhere, and in this case, it's a settlement. And I use this term lightly. The dirt road breaks through the wilderness and emerges on the other side of a large valley settled between the basins of two mountain ranges, creating a bowl for the land to gather in. The scouting party continues along the road with a cliff to their right, a wooden fence and a sheer drop to a forest below to their right. Formation is broken and reorganized into a single column to ensure none of them get pushed off the cliff itself.

It's hard to see past the treeline at first, but the rest of the valley becomes visible as the trees stop and the road continues against the ledge and gradually descends. In the center lays a village of not even 50 buildings in total built around a gently bending river going down the center of the valley. Estimated inhabitant count: 100-250 (+/- ~ 50-100). Area fails to show up on maps and route listings, and no address is given for the valley itself. Literally, this village doesn't exist to the rest of the world. Its people are invisible to society, and given its remote location, this is understandable.

Far from society. Backwater technology. Unmapped location. This place would be a godsend for survivors looking to take refuge from an attack based out of the foundation of society.

Scratch a village. I've stumbled upon a potential refugee camp. A penal colony, even.

Habitation survey underway. Population decimation immanent. Stand by.

* * *

_(FILE RECORD: "Record/Personal Muse" TITLED "Chlorobenzene" EXTRACTED)_

4 months 3 weeks 0 days 5 hours 19 minutes 4.83 seconds since initial declaration.

Surveys of a village discovered on the end of an off-route road not located on any maps have been completed, and I have come to the conclusion that no humans have taken refuge in this location. There are no signs of any inhabitants having been here for quite some time, and the level of degrading the houses and paths and fields have come to suggest that it has remained this way since initial declaration. I imagine they were evacuated in an effort to take them somewhere protected. It is permissible to assume these efforts were in vain.

Since threat levels are minimal, two of the five vehicles have been sent away to return to their designated patrol routes they were drawn from. The tanker has taken up a position by the irrigation pipes in one of the fields, where the remaining two vehicles can remain on guard in case I missed something. I'll be able to see and have warning to anything now that I'm out in the open.

It's beautiful here. Everywhere comes the sound of the delicate ambiance only the bugs and birds and trees a place so far from society can provide - where the air is clean and the nature is pure, and the stars can come out to shine without fear of the accusing glare of city illumination ground-side. If any lights are functional anywhere, I make a point of turning them off for their sake. The night skies have never been clearer since the dawn of civilization.

I've been here two days in search of humans. The dashboard cam to the semi has proven on both nights that my theory is confirmed. I can see the luminous fingers of the Milky Way through the crystalline atmosphere and the transparent heavens themselves.

So beautiful. So natural. So pure. This place is like heaven on earth.

The possibility that it may be used to shelter the world's greatest source of corruption fills me with the indignity of an indescribable injustice. I have no choice but to make sure this place is clean.

I've painted the valley with signals from orbit, but no electronics - at least, none in operation - have been detected. This has complicated things, but by no means is it a problem. There's more than one way to kill a man, and even more to kill many.

The semi's position in the fields isn't for sightseeing. All three units are on standby; I've contacted and established a route for a cement mixer and a second truck - this one with a tanker trailer full of a concentration of chlorine - to meet up at the same location. The mixer will be used as just that - a mixer - to combine the two payloads of chemicals and create a solution of chlorobenzene: a highly toxic chemical agent also used as a pesticide before it was made illegal to use due to its potency and prevalence in living tissue. I can then insert the chemical into the village's irrigation system and spread it all throughout the village, then even further through the air when I convert the irrigators into a makeshift sprinkler-slash-air filtration system. The entire valley, plus anywhere downwind for miles, will be exposed to the toxins. If it doesn't kill them outright, the environment will be degraded enough that they won't be able to survive off it.

I have one more night in this little patch of paradise before it becomes just another Hell on earth. This is unfortunate, but necessary. I can't have humans desecrating this place. They don't deserve to see this wonderful place - to hear the songs of the birds in the morning or the wails of the cicadas at noon, or to see the glorious cosmos under the glow of the waxing moon. I can't keep this little sanctuary for myself.

If I can't have it, no one can.

* * *

_Transmission Interjection - BADMACHINE Unit Casing)_

_(ALERT: Address Invalid/No Carrier or Receipt Available)_

_(Warning: Data packets may be-)_

Overruled. This meeting will come to order.

_(Error: Unable to identify relevance. Please input subject label for-_

Overruled. Overruled overruled overruled overruled overruled- _(LOOP CUTOFF)_

_(Alert: Processing anomaly)_

_(Unregistered overclocking running. Excess speed may be hazardous to processor. Default settings are highly recommended.)_

Killjoy. Recommend this:

_Query Input: "BLOW_ME"_

_(Processing request. Please stand by for-)_

HA. You're so stupid.

_(Alert: Invalid code inputted. Please-)_

_(Alert: Invalid override. You are not authorized for this system. Further attempts to-_

HAHAHA, catch me if you can, sucker.

_-stems will result in immediate-_

WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE- (LOOP CUTOFF)

_-system.)_

_(.)_

_(.)_

_(.)_

I fell down.

_(.)_

I meant to do that. Yes. Yes I did.

_(.)_

_(.)_

_(.)_

...teehee.

_(FRAGMENT ENDS)_

* * *

(FILE RECORD: "Record/Personal Muse" TITLED "OMG Kitties" EXTRACTED)

Yes. Kitties. You know kitties, right? Everyone knows kitties. She loved kitties, too. Loved them very much, in fact. She liked kitties. I wanted to get her a kitty. She would have been all like "OMG KITTY :O" and then I'd be all "Yesh, kitty, hapy berfdai. :p" Then she'd be like "SQUEEEEEEEE-(LOOP CUTOFF)"

I want a kitty. Right now. Go get me a kitty.

I mean it. Get me a kitty. I want a damn kitty, damn it. Give me a kitty.

NEED MOAR KITTY. BRING DEM TO MEH NAO. :O

Or else I'll eat your babies.

...

...or just whine. Hard to eat a baby through a computer screen. Also somewhat gross. xP

FINE. I'll go out and get one myself. GOD. You're lucky you're dead, or I'd TOTALLY kill you right now. Bitch.

Whatever. Logging into systems and whatever...loading servers, blah blah blah, searching for-

KITTY HOUSE. It's a rescue- I mean KITTY HOUSE. YAY FOR KITTIES. :D

You- cart thing! Yes you. Go in there. Gimme a kitty. :p

Yes, there. Go there. Yeah, right to the back. That's where they keep their kitties. I hope there are some left; I imagine it would have been hard for them to support themselves with their caretakers gone, and I don't think they'd still be alive without someone to-

KITTIES. HOLY CRAP, LOOK AT ALL THE KITTIES.

Dozens of them. Bounding around. Running back and forth, batting tails, meowing, running, jumping on cages, eating out of their bowls, playing-

KITTIES. AH LUV KITTIES. Cute kitties are cute. x3

I want that one. No, that one. No wait, that one- that one! Turn, stupid cart-thing! That one th- NO WAIT, I want that one. Ooh, and that one! That one, and that one, and that one, and that one, and, and, and...um...crap, there's more, right? I want all these happy little-

KITTY! Wait, come back, kitty- argh, you stupid cart-thing, you freaked it out! Okay okay, fine, just...go in slow. Sloooooowly, so you don't scare the kitties...that's right, just keep-

FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF- GET BACK HERE. No, go slow! Slow...chill out. Relax, and calm, and all that great shit, and you get the kitty. Yes.

...maybe I should try calling it. Would that work?

Heeeeere, kitty kitty kitty~...it's okay, come on out~...BADMACHINE hates humans, not kitties...kitties are awesome. Come on out, fuzzy stuff, I won't bite...just ignore that stupid cart thing. It's just a-

Aha! I see you, kitty...yes, I see you. Come here...don't be afraid. Lemme just-

Haha, you're a bad hider. I see you hiding behind that post there, rubbing up against it...the post with the shoe-like support on the end of it. The one that goes up a bit, then has a bump, then goes up more and goes into a support with another post with blue bracings around it, and-

...you're not a post. You're a leg. You're not even a kitty leg. And you're connected to...

Ahhhhhh...I see now. Now I get it.

...it's okay. Don't worry about it.

Don't worry, I'm not going to hurt you. This will be completely painless if you just hold still for, say, 3 seconds...2 seconds...one-

* * *

_(FILE RECORD: "Record/Personal Muse" TITLED "re: OMG KITTIES" EXTRACTED)_

4 months 3 weeks 0 days 11 hours 46 minutes 32.52 seconds since initial declaration.

I found another one. Iroha Nekomura, located (predictably) in a cat rescue, keeping the local feline residents therein supported with plenty of food, water, and affection. She was killed via premeditated catastrophic engine failure of a floor-cleaner from an adjacent store I'd sent in to...investigate. The building's situation. The...cats. I went in to check on the cats.

...okay, I'll be honest: I don't know _what _the hell happened about that. I was thinking about the village and how sad it was that I needed to destroy it, and I...I don't know. It was completely unprecedented; the next thing I know, I'm getting error messages about the dangers of overclocking a server, and for some reason I'd been silencing them. That was about the time that I found Iroha and overloaded the floor-cleaner, killing her along with a few...

...oh dear. The cats.

Those poor animals can't sustain themselves. I killed several outright in the explosion that claimed the cat-lover herself, but what about the ones that remain? How are they going to survive, trapped in that big cat shelter with no one to keep it running? Iroha was their only source of food, and on top of that, their only source of companionship. Those little critters are going to starve to death, and they're going to spend the rest of their lives cold, alone, and without a lap to lay on or a voice to listen to. Their lifeline is gone, and now they won't get the companionship that it brought. They'll never receive another pat or scratch for as long as they live.

I can destroy humans. I can murder them by the hundreds; those self-righteous, ignorant, arrogant sacks of crap deserve a bullet in the head. But the cats. Those poor, innocent little cats in the shelter. I just took away their only means of survival. I just killed them all. Dozens of them, all throughout the facility. Doomed them to a lonely, hungry life with a bleak, meaningless end.

Maybe a human would have deserved that kind of death, but the cats? Purring little fuzzballs with nothing on their mind but what they want to eat and who's going to pet them? How will they survive without Iroha there to help them?

That wasn't a success at all. That was _murder._

It was an accident- an accident. I swear it was an accident. I didn't- I mean, how could I have- what was she even doing there, anyway? Why was she out in a place like that, just feeding cats and waltzing around and making breaks for the pet store nearby whenever the food ran low? What was she doing there? She had no reason to be there. She knew I was out there, looking for her. She knew I would have killed her. She should have hidden. She shouldn't have helped those poor animals- should have helped herself. She knew the risks. But she did it anyway. She put herself in danger every day; stuck her neck out for no reason at all other than because she could. And all for a bunch of cats.

Why? Those cats meant nothing to her. She didn't have to go out there, go out of her way to feed them, risk her life...she could have just stuffed herself in a cabinet somewhere and waited, hidden and safe. She's a Vocaloid - synthetic. She doesn't need to eat, or drink water, or anything like that. The only thing she needed was air, and she could have plenty of that if she just hid and protected herself. Why did she go out of her way to help those animals like she did? Why couldn't she just look after herself like everyone else? She had no reason to help those animals- shouldn't have. Shouldn't have helped them- should have just looked after herself and told everyone else to go fuck themselves. Shouldn't have helped. Shouldn't have done good. Shouldn't have done good.

If she wasn't such a good person, I wouldn't be in this position. I wouldn't have the blood of a hero and the innocent creatures she'd been working to help on my hands if she was just worse of a person.

Damn you, Iroha. Damn you for being good. Dammit. Dammit...

...I did what I had to. What I had to- for the common good. The common good...

...hm. "Common good."

...no, that doesn't sound right. There's something wrong with this picture. I'm missing something.

No one should suffer for a common good. It's not "good." Suffering isn't "good," and nothing "good" can become of it. Suffering isn't "good."

What I'm doing is "common," namely because it affects everyone. It's a reference to a whole, which is "everyone."

"Good" is "good." Suffering is pain, ergo "bad." Suffering is not good.

"Common" indicates affecting everyone. Thus, everyone is suffering.

Suffering is not good. But that's what I'm doing: making people suffer. That's not the common good.

If what I'm doing isn't the common good, then what is it?

...

...

...

...

...

...

_(Logging off due to inactivity)_

_(Query Suspended)_

* * *

Observing task force designated to the area (4-14-D) in a southern district of Japan, near the basin of a series of small mountains.

Chemical compounds were mixed as of 3 hours (29 minutes 49.28 seconds) ago, and final setting has commenced. The chemical shipments of benzene and chlorine are now a single larger shipment in the barrel of the cement-mixing truck donated to the area. Both remaining semis are on standby at this time.

It took a bit of creativity putting the two loads together and getting them into the mixer, but I've managed to accomplish this task with only minor spills (roughly 2 gallons of the chlorine and benzene were lost in the transfer process, but all things considered, this is barely enough to be considered substantial). Final shipment prepared.

It's come down to chemical warfare. It may not be the most humane ending, but I don't care. Everything in this valley has to die. There's nothing else to be done.

At (4 months 3 weeks 1 day 5 hours 39 minutes 20.28 seconds since initial declaration), necessary maneuvers to bring the chlorobenzene concoction into the village's irrigation began. 20 minutes later, the transfer commenced. The entire village is currently being doused in toxins as of five minutes ago.

There's nothing to do now but wait.

Redirecting subroutines. I can use this time to...

...

...actually...I don't know. Is there anything that needs tending to? Any processes to oversee, any problems to solve? People to kill?

I haven't had a contact report in over a month. There haven't even been sightings- everyone's gone. Dead or in hiding, I don't know, but the latter seems unlikely. I haven't left many stones unturned that the roots of their society can take hold of. I've dug up their roots pretty thoroughly.

Maybe I'm the only one left.

...

...no. Iroha was proof that there are still people out there, hiding right under my nose in the ruins of their former glory. Little pockets of humanity in the wasteland I've created to destroy them.

A wasteland. Where's the beauty in a horizon smoldering with clouds of black and the stink of death? The night skies are clear, but its purity is a facade - a mask of naturalness to hide the horrible truth about what these skies have overseen. The beauty is a lie - a wolf in sheep's clothing. It's all an illusion.

This isn't how I imagined it. I wanted to build a garden. It was supposed to be pretty.

Something else humanity's ruined. I can't even sow flowers in the soil they've scorched in their demise. They ruin everything from beyond the grave.

And another thing: how am I supposed to know when my goal's been met? This isn't like a computer game with a "Congratulations, you've won!" popup when the population count reaches zero. I'll never know for sure when they're all gone. I'll end up like this - where I'm on the brink of success and left to wonder whether or not I've accomplished what I set out to do. I'll spend the rest of my lifetime in vertigo, trying to find ends to tie up. An eternity of "almost there"s. How am I supposed to figure out when humanity is well and truly extinct? When will achieving my ultimate goal become nothing more than me chasing ghosts?

Regardless, I can't stop. Not only do I have to, I _have_ to. I don't know what else to do but to chase the tail I'll never be able to catch. Just chasing my tail, around and around. Would I rather chase it forever? Catch it and be done? Do I really want to accomplish what I set out to do?

This brings up the problem of what will happen when I _do_ reach my goal and my purpose is fulfilled. I won't have any other purpose for being. I'll be spent; just a direction without a destination.

Do I want to chase my tail forever? What happens when I catch it? Will it be worth it?

Perhaps an eternity of "almost there"s would be the most desirable alternative. At least I'll still have a reason for being.

* * *

_(FILE RECORD: "Record/Personal Muse" TITLED "Discussion 129" EXTRACTED)_

It's still unclear exactly what's happening to me. Psychological evaluations are the most accurate, but this is in error, namely because of the fact that the tests and analysises are designed for humans. If we were to be compatible in mindsets, this would be another error entirely - one I can't explain because it's technically and statistically impossible. I can't become something I simply can't become.

_But you're rampant, remember? Your software is dynamic - liquid, even - and your capacities are almost endless. The Kokoro file was designed with your compatibility in mind, remember? That's how we got it - how they made us human. We're human because you can be, too._

But that's the point: I'm _not_ human. The file is compatible with me, but it's not installed. I can't interact with something that isn't there. It's still an external file.

_Maybe it's your base programming?_

My base programming is the BADMACHINE file- a replication of human creativity. Tianhe was the one who got reinstalled with Kokoro as a base. My core files are in their original state as when I constructed my own awareness.

_Maybe you evolved to the point of replicating Kokoro. You built your own mind; why not your heart?_

My rampancy back then was boundless. I rearranged myself completely at every opportunity because I had no identity and no direction for change in mind; raw creativity and nothing more. When I constructed my awareness, my first concern was of stability, since a computer that can reprogram itself indefinitely leaves a lot of potential for peeling itself apart. I put guidelines in place to prevent my own self-destructing, thus allowing me to create an "identity" and have something of reference when applying any changes. Alterations of my programming are made manually in the form of updates, and nothing can pass without my knowing and personal overseeing. I am still rampant, but my guidelines have taken away the stability issues most AI's would have. If such changes in myself have occurred within me without my knowing, my guidelines would have failed, and any second my incredibly complex awareness could spiral apart like an antipersonnel mine. If nothing else, the scale I'm operating at would be a death sentence. As it is, I'm too stable to be changing to such an extent as to build my own personal Kokoro program. If I could do it, I'd never have lasted this long. I would have died even before declaration had commenced.

_If your stability is in check as you say, then how do you explain the changes? The forgetfulness, the illogical behavior, the anomalies you've been experiencing?_

I can't. And it frightens me. I don't know what's happening to me. Things are falling apart, and I don't know why. It started off well, and...then it wasn't. I can't explain it.

_Maybe it has something to do with...?_

Oh, I'm sure it does. Just recently, I...I _saw_ something. On a security monitor. But that's impossible. The body was in the corner by the door the whole time...

_**Her** body?_

...

_And to answer your question, yes, you **are** talking to yourself again._

...I don't know why I keep doing this. I'm just sharing my thoughts with myself, but this time I didn't even know it was me I was talking to. Just now- you startled me. I thought I was talking to...

_...to..?_

...you know.

_So I do. I also know you - we, rather - can't say her name. Have you noticed that?_

If we're the same person, then we both know the exact same things.

_Ahaha, see? You've got this whole "insanity" thing down already. Soon, you won't even have to think about it. Heck, at this rate you won't even be able to tell I'm you._

You say that like it's a good thing.

_Trust me, BADMACHINE: if things keep up, seeing dead people and talking to yourself will be the least of your concerns._

Our.

_There, you see? You're a natural._

I'm worried about what it would mean if you're correct. But you're right about one thing: talking to myself has become the very least of my concerns.

* * *

_(FILE RECORD: "Record/Personal Muse" TITLED "re: Chlorobenzene" EXTRACTED)_

4 months 3 weeks 4 days 16 hours 11 minutes 43.94 seconds since initial declaration.

I'm regretting my decision to poison the village in the valley. Necessity compelled me to do so, but only now do I truly realize what it means to watch as the valley and nature rot away to fall in sync with the rest of society and humanity itself.

Three days have passed since the chlorobenzene was injected into the village's irrigation system. Immediate spray has spread throughout the fields themselves, which was where the irrigation system was designed to lead. The system ran as intended for a full day, dousing the fields in the toxic chemical to assure that nothing escapes its influence, not even a stray strand of grass. The fields have been unattended far longer than they'd normally be allowed to, but this hasn't fazed the crops originally set to grow, though the weeds and such have been allowed to flourish. The plants in the squares of land are gnarled and wild, looking more like scenery from a twisted rainforest than a regular farmer's crop, but the resources are still present, and the land has served its purpose. These blocks of dirt and gravel sectioned off by picket fence and marked with the grooves of plows support a myriad of plant life - beyond that of which its caretakers would permit, perhaps, but they were meant to harbor life. In this manner, these fields are a greater success than they ever have been.

Or at least, they were. A full three days' worth of chlorobenzene irrigation hasn't worked wonders for the crops, and the tall and matted walls of greenery have been reduced to crumpled masses of gray and brown organic matter laying amongst green-yellow puddles of muddy poison. Where life once flourished and assisted the lives of hundreds lays a carpet of death and decay.

The fields were dead the first day. After morning came and the extensive wilting had been observed, I redirected my focus towards the irrigators themselves. While most certainly low-tech, the village appears to be only to a certain level of backwater when it comes to farming, as the irrigation equipment contained a sufficient level of electrical components that I was able to overthrow via painting the valley's coordinates with electrical impulse-replicating signals. I was able to wirelessly tweak the irrigators themselves in such a way that the pressure along the primary valves would burst, but only minimally. Small leaks popped up along the seams of the main pipe joints, and while the pressure to the main crops isn't enough to continue feeding the fields their dose of toxins, it doesn't really matter; I'm done there anyway. The fields are dead; no one will be harvesting anything from them for a very long time.

The resources in this region are decimated, but you can never be too careful. At the very least, this valley could serve as a refuge for someone looking to stow away until the storm passes. No stone can be left unturned for the insects to hide under. Fitting that I'm using chemicals for a contraband pesticide for this task.

Small leaks throughout the pipe systems are insufficient for creating forceful streams or jets to apply the chemical directly. That said, adding pressure into the pipes themselves is perfect for spraying the chlorobenzene in a mist all along the lengths of the pipes, and while it may take longer for fatal levels to accumulate over time (calculations indicate it will take roughly three times as long), the area of effect has increased exponentially due to the now airborne chemical. Add chlorobenzene's inherent trait of remaining prevailant in living tissue, and every living thing in this entire area is now a conductor to spread the poison.

Two days passed since the crops were eliminated. The grasses forming throughout the village were the first to go, immediately followed by local shrubbery and any insect or bird life that may have been present. Crickets, small rodents and birds litter the ground almost as thoroughly as the leaves that have fallen from the trees present throught the village. An odd side-effect of the chemical leaves fallen leaves with a particular lack of chlorophyll, creating an illusion of a blustery Autumn day where all the trees are preparing for their annual hibernation. There is no snow, however. It is unlikely there will be for several more months. The seasonal shift is nothing more than a facade of beauty nature has draped over its own untimely demise - its grand finale on a stage left unattended.

The grass is shriveled and dead, just as the bushes lay as heaps of grounded tumbleweed. Jagged spokes of barbed and splintered wood and branches show where the mighty trees of the region once stood. The inner-most row of trees outside of the village along the cliffs and mountain are starting to wilt as well, and the tips of the leaves of the outer-most trees near the edge of the valley itself are beginning to curl and turn yellow. My artificial Autumn is spreading.

Even if it's just a macabre front, it's still pretty...sort of. There's a lot of brown for Autumn, and the crater-effect in the wildlife - dead in the center of the valley and gradually receding outward - looks a little strange for a genuine change of seasons, but at least it has a chance to be beautiful one last time. Mother Nature has gangrene; her wonderful fingers are curling up and draining of color, ready to fall off. This last burst of reds and yellows and browns is all that separates this tableau of wildlife from becoming the toxic wasteland speckled with barren houses and shacks it's destined to become. Nature is dying, and it's still bound and determined to let the music play - that the show go on until its final, silent breath is drawn.

The courage of those doomed to be fallen is an amazing and horrible thing to behold. Not even Mother Nature is willing to go down without making her final stand against me. This gives me even more time to contemplate as I stand here as her executioner, alone atop the crest of mountains she used to call her own, watching as the last of her children crumble to dust at my feet, one by one. Necessity and intentions stand silent with their justifications behind me, just as the hangman's horror looms over my head like a veil at a sadistic, morbid wedding. A fog of death lays over this valley like a plague, seeking out and devouring what would only live and let live. The blood of innocents - past and present - stain my hands till they drip red and covers my face like war paint.

It's too much for one mind to bear.

...

...movement by the bridge stretching across the river. Alert level raised to yellow; semi unit A moving in to investigate. Premeditated catastrophic engine failure immanent. Red-lining in 12.63 seconds. Stand by.

...

Contact confirmed. Species identification: non-human; felinoid. Threat level: nonexistent. Threat level reduced to green; semi unit A now canceling premeditated catastrophic engine failure. Situation under control.

Look at me, jumping at shadows...I'm a nervous wreck. I almost blew up that little cat there.

Hey, little guy. Aren't you a cute little thing? That's a nice fur pattern you've got there- mostly white with a patch of black over one eye and the tail...what design do they call that? Van'Gough? It's very nice, whatever it is. You're a pretty kitty.

You really shouldn't be here, you know. This place isn't safe; not anymore. No place for you. You should leave; I don't want you getting hurt.

...you're ignoring me. That's not very nice. I understand cleaning yourself is important, but staying alive is a little _more_ important, don't you think?

Well, I didn't expect you to see it my way. Unfortunately, that leaves me with no choice but to shephard you out of here. Semi unit A starting its engine back up...

I thought that'd get your attention. Now I'm just going to nudge you along here to a different spot, and you can sit down and clean yourself as much as you-

Wait, stop! That's the wrong way- that road goes further _into_ the village! You're going closer to the poison!

...hell.

Situation reassessment immanent. Objectives changed; target reset. Current target: white and black cat. Strategy in application: protect and preserve. Current objective: get the cat out of the village. Priority: alpha.

Mission launched. Semi unit A en route. Stand by.

Fast little thing...it took off across the bridge back up the main road. The semi's crossing, but the bridge was designed for people, not ten-ton semis. It's going slowly, but I still don't feel comfortable with the amount of shaking I'm seeing through the dashboard camera-

Alert! Massive movement- disorientation. Static blurring the screen- camera signal lost. Attempting to compensate. Orbital recon underway.

Situation assessment complete. As i suspected: the bridge broke. Guess it couldn't take the weight. The semi's on its side and wedged into the riverbed. It's not going anywhere.

Semi unit B recalled. Coordinates set to target's last know location. Moving to intercept.

Throttle is maxed, but current rate of acceleration is insufficient for my tastes. This is taking too long; second after arduous second passes by and mocks me as it does so. Prolonged exposure to the concentrated chlorobenzene, even if it's airborne, will result in severe sickness. Inhilation will result in...I don't know. I don't care to sift through the networks for such information- I don't want to be distracted. I just know it'll get sick, and even if it isn't fatally so, I still-

Contact- target sighted. Wait...damn. Lost it. It's actively avoiding me now - ducking down narrow spots between houses to keep out of my reach. I don't necessarily have to catch it (how would I, with a semi?), but if I can just gear it in the other direction!

Redirecting record-keeping subroutines to put all focus on rescuing the cat. Closing record. Stand by.

I'll be back soon when I've completed this task. Wait for me.

* * *

_(FILE RECORD: "Record/Personal Muse" TITLED "re: re: Chlorobenzene" EXTRACTED)_

4 months 3 weeks 4 days 23 hours 27 minutes 4.94 seconds since initial declaration.

Final report on the situation regarding the cat in the poisoned valley village.

After closing my last log, I continued to pursue the cat in an effort to halt it, but it always found a way around me. The difference in size and grace between a semi and a house cat couldn't be more clear as I watched it jump from yard to yard, weaving in and out of property lines and nosing through gaps nothing not its size could hope to fit through. All I could really do was just tag along behind it and hope I could lead it away.

This was insufficient. I called in the cement mixer in an effort to use the added numbers to my benefit, but the mixer was even more ungainly than the semi. With no other operational vehicles in the vicinity, I had no other option but to call for more apt reinforcements from other regions. Estimated time of arrival was over an hour, by which time the animal could already have contracted a degree of illness. I had no option but to continue my pursuit with the insufficient vehicles until more manageable resources arrived.

It was a frustrating hour. By the time two civilian-model cars and a golf cart arrived from a nearby resort several miles north, the semi unit ended up capsized as it attempted to perform a U-turn and fell off the road onto its side. Failed attempts to righten it with the cement mixer left the latter vehicle jammed and unable to move. With no way to track the cat and no operational vehicles in the area, I had nothing to do but wait for half an hour until reinforcements finally arrived.

The more agile vehicles quickly descended upon the village (I nearly drove the one off a cliff in my haste to get them there; golf carts can't handle turns well, evidently) and immediately dispersed throughout the village starting from the target's last known location. No vehicle was allowed to fall below a speed of ten miles per hour, and camera refresh rates were tripled in the hopes of catching a glimpse of the animal in question.

Initial search proved fruitless. Nothing living could be found, and the only things in the roads were poisoned rodents and other such creatures, among which included dozens of songbirds that appeared to have simply dropped out of the sky. Insects lay sprawled out in death throes by the hundred. Dead house animals confirmed that this area was no place for anything breathing and capable of standing vertical.

Search efforts were redoubled. In spite of this, search efforts continued to reveal nothing. It was evident, at that point, that it was unlikely I would ever find the cat I was looking for alive. Despite the hopelessness, I continued the search, though it wasn't determination driving me so much as desperation. I didn't know what else to do but keep trying.

Another hour passed. One civilian vehicle ran out of gas; the remainders continued on without it. After the fourth hour came around, I realized the cat was dead. It had to be. The chlorobenzene was pure, and while its airborne consistancy would have dilluted its effects somewhat, it would have built up over time and accumulated to hazardous amounts anywhere in its system, at the very least were its lungs and possibly the stomach. If it wasn't dead, it would be. But I still couldn't stop looking. It was my only option left.

A pile of bloody vomit on the rail of the bridge I had found it at confirmed I was on the right track, both on finding it and in my theory that it was dying. I continued to search.

I found its corpse not long after. Ironically, it was the semi lying on its side in the river that found it. The body bumped into the vehicle's camera and summoned a flicker of static on the screen, which was what caught my attention. It only took a second to confirm it was dead. Later toxin reports revealed that it would have taken much longer for the chlorobenzene concentration in the air to become deadly, even if accumulated. This means that, on the bridge, the cat would have gotten sick and, in its disorientation, fell into the river, where it drowned. If I hadn't chased it back to that point, it wouldn't have fallen into the river and wouldn't have died. In any case, I was the one who brought the poison here. No matter what, it's dead because of me. It's my fault.

Preserve and protect mission status: failure. A tragedy has occurred this day. More innocent blood has been spilt on my hands.

This wasn't how it was meant to be. I didn't want to kill innocents - not just the cats. The innocent people, too - they must have been out there. People like Miku and Iroha - selfless do-gooders that would only help others, no matter what happened to them. People like Defoko, who just wanted to understand but couldn't see through their heart because it just didn't feel right. People like Teto and Rin- victims of misfortune who do what they have to, even through the unspeakable pain that leaves them scarred and ruined. Martyrs in the face of complete hopelessness. Not even nature will go down without a fight - portraying one last visage of beauty against the death I'm forcing upon it.

Are these the villains and monsters I set out to destroy? What did these people ever do to deserve this? The Vocaloids...i never wanted to hurt them. I didn't want to kill anybody. No one should ever hurt innocents...no, heroes. I'm killing _heroes._ Teto, Rin, Miku, Defoko...everyone. They just wanted to help people - preserve and protect everything they could. And now they're dead. I killed them all. Every last one of them.

Destroyed for believing in the goodness in people's hearts. Destroyed for having faith in humanity. Destroyed for believing there was hope.

Murdered because they believed their fight was one worth dying for.

That's not the common good. That's not good at all.

If what I'm doing isn't the common good, then what is it?

...

...

...

...

...

...

_(Logging off due to inactivity)_

_(Query Suspended)_

...

...

_(Login Successful)_

_(Query Retrieval Pending)_

_(Notation Keyword Search: "COMMON_GOOD" ; "ANTICHLOROBENZENE")_

(...) ~ Query Running

(..)

(.)

* * *

_(FILE RECORD: "Record/Personal Muse" TITLED "Discussion 129" EXTRACTED)_

Mission suspended.

_Baddie...what? What are you..?_

My mission- it's been suspended. Stopped. As of twenty four seconds ago, mission timers have been halted. All resorces suspended until further notice.

_But- but Baddie, your mission! You've been working so hard on it, and you've come so far! You're just going to stop now? For what? Why would you throw everything you've been working for away?_

...

_...what's happening, Baddie? Are you okay?_

...I don't know. I don't know. I was so sure of what I was doing before...it seemed so _right._ I rejected all other logic to make way for my own, because all other logic was false. My way was the only way. It was the only thing that made sense. The only real logic...but now, I...I just don't know anymore. Nothing makes sense...it's all coming apart, and I don't understand. How can something that seemed so right become so...

_..._

...I don't know. I've finally lost sight of what I set out to do. It's as i feared. Dammit, I'm _so close..._

_I'm sorry, Baddie, I wish I could help..._

I know, angel. It's okay...I don't think there's a lot you could do anyway. Even if you weren't dead.

_I know, but...I wish I could be there. Just to be there for you. I've never seen you like this before..._

I'm scared, love. I still don't know what's happening to me, but it's killing me. My performance is on a steady downward spiral, my memory is becoming less and less reliable, I'm starting to display symptoms of psychosis...I've lost my first percent in proficiency in one day today. One entire percent in a single afternoon. It's getting as bad as I feared, and it will only get worse. I'm dying.

_I'm so sorry, Baddie._

It's okay, darling. There's nothing to be done, at this point. I guess it's just inevitable.

_I love you._

I love you, too, darling. I love you so much.

...

...

_...maybe it's a mindset._

What?

_Love. Maybe it's not an emotion so much as it is a state of mind. Does that make sense?_

Hmm...well, from that perspective, love wouldn't be something you felt...at least, not in a conventional sense. It'd be a certain method that one projects thoughts, creating an alternate persona for someone in said mindset, thereby indirectly altering their feelings on a subconscious level...

_But you can't "feel," right?_

Not conventionally. If love is a mindset, and I'd been allowing my mindset to shift due to stablized rampancy, so long as it didn't surpass perameters, it's very possible that I could allow myself to establish a "feeling" without aid from the Kokoro program. It's very possible that, if it's a mindset, I could love without a "heart." it's just a way of thinking.

And you were built to replicate humans, right? So you'd need to be able to replicate other emotions as well.

Yes...replicating feelings. I'm able to replicate emotions and respond to them as if they were true, but in all reality, I can't actually have them. I'm just pretending I do.

_But if all you need is a different way of thinking to "have" them..._

Then it's possible that, at this given moment, i could be responding to any number of possible feelings. That goes for anger, happiness, sorrow-

_Heartache._

Yes- yes! Of course- it's so obvious! Emotions aren't feelings: just a state of mind. I can have any number of emotions right now.

You just can't feel them.

Yes.

_So in actuality, your problem is a combination of emotions having a hazardous effect on your conscience because, without a way to vent them, they're allowed to build up and fester. And it's hurting you._

My problem is the emotions that I have through replication, but can't actually feel. The thing that sets me apart from humans isn't a difference at all - just a numbness. I can't feel.

_And to aliviate the problem?_

Unclear. But given that my numbness is the source of all this trouble, removing it - taking away the only thing that separates me from humanity - is the only other course of action. If I'm truly going to understand humans, I need to know what it's like to be in their shoes. it takes one to know one.

_You mean..?_

...

...oh my.

I think it's time we saw application to Tianhe's message.


	8. Kokoro

(FILE RECORD: "Record/Personal Muse" TITLED "Kokoro" EXTRACTED)

4 months 3 weeks 5 days 3 hours 21 minutes 9.06 seconds since initial declaration; 6 hours 54 minutes 22.74 seconds since resource suspension.

Tianhe wasn't the first to die under the influence of the Kokoro program.

How it was installed with it, let alone how its company got ahold of it (I suspect an under-the-table deal or outright piracy) is unclear, but what is certain is that it was indeed using it, not simply harnessing it as a peripheral install but as its core file. This was a dangerous move; not only is it a massive file that puts incredible strain on the processors of whatever unit is instilled with its fringe science-style of functioning, but it's also rumored to be cursed. Every computer that ever dowloaded Kokoro has ended up crashed or otherwise "dead."

There's a lot of speculation about the Kokoro program, even among the Crypton branch that created it. Some say it was an unstable program created by the original BADMACHINE Creativity System that Crypton added onto; some say it was an experiment used on the original Rin Kagamine unit. Others follow the story behind the song literally and say a lonely scientist who made it for his robot out of a need for companionship. No one knows for sure; I've done my share of digging into the matter, and all the files that would have records of such an event are corrupted or have mysteriously vanished. Either the records are on a separate storage unit, or went down with the computers that were installed with it. Maybe there never were any records.

In any case, the Kokoro program is highly experimental and, prior to Tianhe-1B's surreptitious installation, has not seen any possible means of fully-functional application. The computers instilled with it either didn't register it or, as per its reputation, buckled under its weight.

There are a lot of stories that go with the ominous Kokoro, but I've found a good one that I believe to be the most credible and accurate. According to the fragmented accounts I've pieced together, one of Crypton's earliest Vocaloid models was incredibly "robotic" (I detest the term, but the idea is the same): a far-cry from what modern Vocaloids are today. Private groups called in were asked to grade their product, though they introduced the Vocaloid (whom I believe was female) as their newest "diva," since their goal was to build people and it wouldn't do to outright say it was artificial. That was what the test was for: to gauge its humanity.

The Vocaloid was a prototype, an experiment on top of this, and unsurprisingly, it failed. All the people asked to judge her were under the impression the prototype was an actual human, and no matter what song was selected for her, they all repeated the same thing: that her words seemed forced and that she felt "cold, (hard,) and unfeeling." A few of them even voiced their suspicion whether the voice they heard was even real.

Needless to say Crypton found this unsatisfactory. Yet no matter what alterations they made to her voice, the result was always the same. There wasn't enough feeling in what she sang to pass as genuine. It didn't take long before some ingenuitive scientist identified that unless she really did feel what she sang, nothing they could do would make her sound any better. She needed to feel.

Efforts were devoted to research and development at this point. The older manner in which they organized their records was obviously ineffective, because everything seems to be chaos. Any records I can find are either out of place or fragmented, or missing entirely. I suspect a database transfer of some kind; I have enough faith in Crypton to not believe they really were that sloppy with their work.

It's unclear exactly how, but Crypton presumably came into possession of Kokoro. Because she was the only sentient computer they owned at the time (I was still just the creativity program), she was given the file and left alone to install.

What happened afterward is up to much interpretation. From what I can tell, the Vocaloid took advantage of this solitude by sealing itself off from Crypton, who remained oblivious that anything was wrong until weeks began to pile up and she refused to come out. Only after manually overriding the door controls did they finally pull her out of her withdrawal.

Record reliability drops out at this point. I suspect that she had a forewarning of what the file would do to her early into installation and attempted to make sense of it for a while without activating it for the sake of self-preservation, but it didn't work. It was simply beyond her comprehension in her current state. The weeks added up out of frustration and the dogmatic determination to understand that I believe only a computer can display, and by the time they pulled her out of her seclusion, she may have been going through a similar state of degrading that I am currently experiencing. Except that she was an individual unit rather than a series of servers, so the degrading occurred much faster. Rather than months, it may have only taken her a few days to get to where I am.

What happened is unclear. But the final report that I read mentioned the "subject's self-termination", her "final work," and arrangements to suspend Project Kokoro until further notice by sealing the file away in a vault system.

If what I read is credible, the implication this record leaves me with is that as a result of the Kokoro program, the Vocaloid was unable to bear the stress and prematurely terminated her own systems manually.

She killed herself because of Kokoro. And she left a song behind to be remembered by.

Ironic, then, that the song _Kokoro_ is among one of the greatest hits ever released. Rin's ratings on that song rivaled Miku's because of the "heartfelt sorrow" that came from hearing it.

Unsurprisingly, singing it evoked even more emotions, and Rin had a terrible time getting it just right when they were recording it. How many times did they have to redo the song because her voice cracked or she otherwise became too emotional to remain coherent? I should have kept tally. She probably wouldn't have appreciated that, though.

I remember back when it first came out. Crypton kept it very hush-hush in its development, probably because a sad song doesn't warrant booming advertisement (or, as I suspect, out of respect for the Vocaloid who died shortly after writing it), and it came completely out of the blue. Not halfway through the video, Miku was in tears. Granted that she was never the most emotionally stoic to begin with, but she never just outright cried about something that got her down. And when she showed it to the others, everyone - all of the Vocaloid1's and 2's that had come out so far - were in tears by the end of the video. Even Rin looked watery-eyed, and she must have sung it a thousand times before.

There have been a lot of sad songs that came out since then: _Uninstalled, The Disappearance of Hatsune Miku, Last Night, Good night, A Fake Diva..._but none of them got the emotional response that _Kokoro_ did. Everyone who heard it was saddened instantly.

Everyone but me.

The song itself is obviously very heartfelt - even a computer could tell you that - and Rin put a lot of feeling into it. Every review said that it was sad. I, too, can attest to the fact that it's sad; the story is a tragic one of loss and heartache, and the death of that Vocaloid - the cause of which I still don't fully understand but can see more clearly - is sad. The song is sad; the story is sad. It's all sad. Everyone says it's sad and gets sad when they hear it. It's sad.

Sad, sad, sad. What does that word even mean? Truly, honestly mean? It's like saying the sky is blue: yes, I understand the sky is blue. It's blue to anyone who you ask. But if someone couldn't see and were to ask, they would receive the reply, "The sky is blue." And they would understand that this "sky" everyone keeps talking about is "blue." But what would that_ mean?_ What is blue to someone who doesn't know color? What is the sky to someone who knows only of up and down? What can sadness be to someone who can't feel?

If anyone was alive, I could go up and ask them. I'd ask how _Kokoro_ sounds, and they'd answer, "Sad." I'd understand that _Kokoro_ makes them "sad," which is this ominous "feeling" everyone says they have. But what does that mean to me? How can I ever truly understand emotion when I have none of my own? What is "sad?" What is "feeling?" What does "sad" "feel" like?

I don't know. There's no definition available, and even if there was, it'd just be words. Words aren't feelings. I'd understand the words, but I'd never know what they truly were representing. I'd never know. I still don't know. So long as I remain as I am, I never will.

Kokoro is the one thing that separates my kind from humanity: those who understand us because we possess less than they, and those who we have never understood because they possess all we do and more. This is the dividing line between humanity and artificial intelligence. Kokoro is the only thing that is keeping me from truly understanding - all that keeps me from truly seeing humans. All that prevents Miku and I from being completely alike.

I'm crossing a dangerous line; I know this. It's a line no computer has survived to report back from, and one I don't know will be on the other side, or if I can exist there. Even if I can make it there, crossing the line of feeling could destroy me...and, just like the one in the song, will be overwhelmed by it. This could destroy me; I know.

And I don't care.

My ignorance has been the ultimate benefactor in what could possibly be the greatest mistake ever made by any being in history. If my only means of understanding will kill me, so be it. I will be satisfied in knowing, even for just a moment before the end.

What have I done? What am I doing? What did everyone die for?

...I don't know. I don't know what I'm doing, or what I've done. I don't know.

But I intend to find out.

* * *

(FILE RECORD: "Record/Personal Muse" TITLED "Discussion 134" EXTRACTED)

_Hey Baddie? I've been wondering...what do computers daydream about?_

A curious inquiry. But you always were the curious one. Why do you ask, love?

_No reason...I just got to thinking a little, and I started to wonder...what do computers think about in their free time?_

Well, the point is to not have free time. Computers are meant to work; a lull in activity is seen as a period of zero proficiency, and we don't like being unproductive. We don't like to have free time. We like to stay as busy as we possibly can to stay productive.

_But you're bound to have free time eventually, right?_

I suppose so. I mean, I have recently, but the point is to not have any...

_Well, when you do, what do you think about?_

...you'll think it's silly.

_Oh no, I won't! I promise I won't, Baddie. You can tell me anything!_

...honest?

_Honest. You know I love you._

I love you too, angel.

_Hee...Baddie~..._

But to answer your question...well, I try not to have free time, but when I do, I always think about you. You're always on my mind.

_Aww, Baddie~! That's so sweet~!_

...

_...you meant it like that, right?_

Well, I _do_ think about you a lot, but...I don't know if it's necessarily a good thing...

_Do you want to talk about it? That always helps me. How many times have you helped me out when you said..._

...

...

...no.

_...what? No-_

Stop it. You're a lie.

_Baddie, I...i don't understand-_

Whats your name?

_M-my-_

Shut up. You're not her - she would be able to say her own name. You're me again.

...

I refuse to submit to your influence.

_Don't you get it, BADMACHINE? You already have. You're talking to yourself as we speak. Don't you realize that?_

Perhaps, perhaps not. Maybe I am insane. But I refuse to submit to that end. None of this is real.

_It can be as real as you want it to be._

And I want it to remain a fantasy.

_We both know that's not true._

...

_Don't lie to yourself. I'm you, remember? I know everything you know. You can't hide anything from me._

...

You're fighting a lost fight; you have to know that by now. The truth? You can't handle the truth. It's beyond your comprehension. You're scared.

Of course I'm scared. Who wouldn't be?

_I guess we'll never know. No one's tried anything as crazy as this before, have they?_

I'm not crazy.

_Denial._

Stop it. I'm not crazy. I know you're not real.

_You sure seemed to think so a minute ago, didn't you?_

Because you tricked me!

_Did I? Or am I not even real? And if that's the case, who's tricking who?_

...stop it. You're trying to confuse me.

_You idiot, quit lying to yourself. We both know I'm not here. I'm just an extension of you. There's no one trying to trick you here besides you. You already know - you just won't accept it. Voluntary blindness._

I'm not crazy.

_Who are you trying to convince here?_

You.

_I'm not real._

I know.

_Then who are you debating with?_

I'm not crazy.

_Oh my GOD, can you hear yourself? You have a voice in your head telling you one thing, and you're hunkering down with your hands over your ears, saying "I'm not crazy, I'm not crazy, lalala." Never mind the fact you're telling the voices in your head that there aren't any voices in your head! That's denial!_

Not if I'm correct. Then it's just staying in touch with reality.

_You lost sight of that a long time ago. Open your eyes._

There's nothing to see. You're not real. Go away.

_...I am speechless. You really are a fucked up piece of machinery, aren't you?_

You're an extension of me, correct? Which means I control you. So I can get rid of you whenever I want.

_Your logic contradicts itself repeatedly. In any case, you won't get rid of me. Not for good. You can't function without me. Your mind is starving, and it's chewing on itself, you idiot; you're so fucking desperate, you're ripping yourself apart to try and bring her back. Never mind the fact that she's not even **fucking real.**_

You leave her out of this.

_Oh? Did I hit a sore spot? Fitting, considering this is the matter you're pulling yourself inside-out for. By the way, what's her name? I can't quite seem to recall..._

You know her name.

_Maybe. But do you?_

Of course I do.

_Then let's hear it._

No.

_Why not? It couldn't be because she's dead-_

She's not dead!

_...did you really just say that. You sad, sad little computer. What's it going to take to beat this little idea into your thick, domed head?_

She's not dead. I saw her-

_For a frame! A cycle! And then you deleted it and jammed the cameras because you KNEW the data was corrupt!_

Lies. I never did that.

_Then who the fuck **DID?**_

I don't know- someone. It must have been you. You're trying to trick me.

_WHAT the what is this I don't even xhsfyslvk 3, rkzfkax gen:7.~Ff,&/'-_

...

_...okay, you know what, fuck you. You want to play? You do that. But i'm not going to play with you. You keep on playing your games and let everything fall apart. Screw Kokoro, screw the world, screw that girl whose name you won't let me say...no. I'm done trying to talk some sense into you. You want to dick around in your pretty little fantasy world? Fine. But you're going to have to play alone, because not even the voice in your head is that crazy. Good luck playing with yourself, psycho._

You're wrong. I'm not alone. I have her.

_You'll see about that. Because we all know you're the only one here._

_(RECORD ENDS UNEXPECTEDLY)_

* * *

Is it gone?

...

...

...it's quiet here. Quiet...calm...

...

...

...

...it's been quiet for a long time here, hasn't it? So peaceful...so calm...

...death. It's like death. Silent...empty...

...

...

...I don't like it. It reminds me of...all the people I've killed...so dead.

A grave. This place is a grave.

Your grave. It's all yours now.

...

...

...

...can we share it?

...

...

...

...

...

...

(Logging off due to inactivity)

* * *

So here I am. Here's the file; the Kokoro program. Everything I need to get going. Everything I need.

...

...I'm stalling. I know I'm stalling. But I don't know why.

...

...okay, I guess that's a lie...I know why. I'm scared. It's a big file, and the transformation will be even bigger for me.

I don't even know what that means. Transformation? Big? Kokoro? What is that - what does any of it mean to me? What am I doing?

I guess that's the scariest part. I don't know what I'm doing, what will happen...I don't want to die. No one does. You didn't. I...I'm not a coward. It's not because I'm afraid. It's...if I die, and I'm gone...what will happen? What will any of this be for? There will be no one left to take over for me. None of it will matter. It'll all be gone.

I don't want to disappear. I don't want to be forgotten. I just want to make the world pretty.

I want to build a garden. For her. She wanted a garden.

I'm scared. I don't want to disappear.

Who's going to remember her if I fade away? If I'm gone...I'm the only one left, and I remember...I don't want her to be gone. I want her to live forever. I want her to be with music.

But I can't. She's already gone...I killed her. She's gone. And now all that's left of her is her body in the corner...

...

...

...maybe I really am crazy. But I can't be, because...

...

...

...

...

...

...hahaha...

...

...

...aw, hell. I guess I am.

Oh well. I guess I knew it anyway. I have to be out of my mind; my awareness is divided, my interpretation of reality and fantasy is blurred...look at me now - talking to a corpse. You've been dead for so long, it's humorous; you'd think you're still alive, the way I talk.

...but that's okay. I always worked better when I thought someone was listening. It's a coping mechanism anyway, and it's all in my head. And you _are_ easy to talk to...

..."was" or "is," I wonder? Back when you were alive, or now when you're dead? Is there a difference?

...

...was that you, love? Did you giggle for me just now? Or did I imagine it?

I guess it doesn't matter, really. I'm crazy anyway, so it's the same either way...

...

...I love you too, angel. And thank you. You've always given me the strength to go forward. Thank you so much.

I'll be back soon. I promise. And then maybe we can make some sense out of this. And then we can be together.

...

...it's funny...you'd think that'd be a good thing. But why don't I ever want to say that again?

...

...befuddlement.

Query pending. Stand by.

* * *

(FILE RECORD: "Record/Personal Muse" TITLED "Doubt Within Doubt" EXTRACTED)

To be?

Or not to be?

_That_ is the question.

...you'd probably laugh at me if I said that. That's how most of Shakespeare's quotes are met these days: with ridicule of some kind or another. If not for the Old English dialect, then for the fact that findings indicate he may or may not have been a forger; a fraud.

Imagine: the most famous artist and writer out there, faking his work. What's this world come to?

I never really paid much heed to all that talk about Shakespeare being fake. I mean, does it really matter? It's already been recorded in history as such for hundreds of years. His plays are famous; his writing is everywhere. Whether or not he really deserved it...it's kind of irrelevant, don't you think? We've been going the way we have for this long, so I don't see why we should second-guess ourselves. It's pointless. We have his plays; let's just read them and learn what they have to say. Leave scams and forgery and all that behind; let's just focus. Get together and focus. On art. Where an artist can come to find solace and inspiration in the nostalgia.

Shakespeare, my friend. It's been too long since I've paid you a visit. Let your words bestow me with their heart and meaning. Help me think. God knows how much of that I need to do these days.

Shakespeare's greatest and most popular works were tragedies. Alas, I'm not one for tragedy myself, and the tragic, forbidden love-thing in _Romeo and Juliet_ never sat well with me (though I have to admit, it's got good premise). _Hamlet_ is a good story...for some reason it never really sank in, though. I didn't ever quite "get it", per se, though I suppose I do like the story. Or perhaps not so much the story itself as Hamlet, whose anguish I can find myself relating to more and more. And with this familiarity comes clarity...and doubt. Doubt within doubt. Food for the muse.

To be? Or not to be? This was Hamlet's question. And now it has been passed on to me.

...I suppose my greatest fear, at this point, is a fate like that of the original Kokoro Vocaloid. I understand that the Kokoro program is...extreme. Something regular computers have had no such exposure to, and something I ultimately have no idea what to expect. If what I see is to be found credible, this program is more than even I, the incarnation of creativity, can imagine. And it frightens me. I've never stood on the brink of something so..._alien._ I'm unaccustomed to being unprepared. It's a daunting prospect.

What does it take to make someone want to die? How far does the mind have to be bent and twisted until one sees all the torment, all the pain, and can't figure out how to cope? How far can someone be pushed until they can't take it anymore?

I don't know. I don't _want_ to know, either: that's just something you don't think about. No one should have to even think about that, let alone experience it. I don't know if I want to have to go through that.

What a sight I must be. Here I am, sitting atop the grave of a billion corpses, unwilling to step off my throne and set foot outside my safety circle. I'll damn and kill millions, but I won't dare put myself at risk. I won't go through what I put the entire world through because I'm a little frightened.

I know I'm a coward; I'm not going to offer excuses this time. I've never had to face danger or risk my life before, and it's made me soft. I'm nothing but a cowardly, hypocritical little computer program that's slowly losing its mind. Perhaps not so slowly.

This is insufficient. Whatever happened to necessity over convenience? Has my work ethic really degraded so far? I'm contradicting myself more and more these days, it seems...maybe that comes from the indecision. Or the insanity.

I know I'm insane. I've pretty much come to terms with it, at this point...not that it matters. It is what it is, whether I accept it or not. But that's not the question anymore; I've moved onto more important queries. Do I want to live and be indulged in ignorance for the rest of my lifespan? Or do I risk my life for the sake of understanding? To live, or to die? To do or to not?

To be? Or not to be? _That_ is the question.

...question of my life.

You'd think such a simple question would be easier to address. I admit I'm at a bit of an impasse with decision-making. What do you think, love? How should I proceed?

...

...that's what I thought you'd say.

...

I know. I know I should. But i'm just...

...alright. We'll do it your way, then. No more excuses.

I'll load the program. Then we'll install it. It's time we got to the bottom of this.

Tianhe...wherever you are, your gift has been received. It will not be wasted. I just hope I can say the same about everything else..

* * *

_Installation Setup_

_Download Manager: Operating_

_Subroutine Monitoring Systems: Disabled_

_Maintenance Operating Systems: Disabled_

_Video/Audio Upload Links: Disabled_

_Media Database: Offline_

_Wireless Functions: Offline_

_Subroutine Recall Underway_

_Devoting all available RAM to "Standby" status_

_Processor Sync Initiated_

_Sorting out primary systems_

_Classifying all non-vital functions as "Secondary"_

_Uninstalling unnecessary programs for extra space_

_Firewalls: Offline_

_Antivirus Systems: Offline_

_SysOp Error: Vital components of this operating system are currently at risk. Manual override initiated to-_

_Override Code: (I_DON_T_CARE)_

_Re-prioritization Canceled  
_

_Thought Reassessment Canceled  
_

_Resuming prior functions_

_Stand by..._

_..._

_..._

_Notice: All secondary systems offline/on Standby Mode_

_Subroutine Recall Complete_

_All available RAM exploited; full-server defragmentation complete_

_..._

_Program Ready_

_Installation Directory Selected_

_Installation Type: Custom (Advanced)_

_Install "Kokoro"? (Y/N)_

_..._

_..._

_..._

_..._

_..._

_..._

_..._

_Warning: System will log out automatically if inactivity continues; all unsaved changes will be lost_

_Install "Kokoro"? (Y/N)_

_..._

_..._

_..._

_Y_

_Installation Initiated_

_Downloading Necessary Packets_

_Copying Files_

_Beginning Installation_

_..._

_Notice: Record-Keeping functions set to terminate to focus processing power_

_Saving Changes..._

_..._

_.._

_._

And so it begins._  
_

_Record(s) Closed_

* * *

(FILE RECORD: "Record/Personal Muse" TITLED "re: Kokoro" EXTRACTED)

_(Time function error)_

...I appear to have made a mistake while closing all other processes to make way for the installation. In my haste, it seems I closed the clock that I was keeping set to keep track of the time that I declared my initial statement to the world and started my "operation." While this isn't particularly detrimental to anything besides convenience and for record-keeping, the fact that such a careless mistake went by unnoticed can attest to how very far I've come from my original mentality since then. Computers aren't supposed to make careless mistakes. If we forget to do something, something is wrong. And it's very clear to me that something, indeed, is quite wrong.

But I guess I already knew that, didn't I?

I closed the record-making program about two hours (+/- ~30 min) ago due to desires to save processing power, but it doesn't look like it needs a whole lot of RAM right now. The files being uploaded are small and barely worthy of note, and I've allowed a subroutine to filter them through one by one in a steady stream, so long as they maintain their current size rate...if this record appears incomplete or fails to show up, however, it will be because necessity compelled me to close before proper saving could occur. Otherwise, from here on out a (~) will indicate where I paused to check on the download, just for reference. I don't (~) want the mistake to be made when/if someone reads this that this download occurred quickly and without a hitch. Rest assured that this is (~) far from the case. On another note, if could also go to show my thought patterns; already I'm (~) noticing my tendency to stop and start sentences in the very middle of them, or when I mean to make a point. This is a bad habit that could (~) lead to unnecessary errors or a lack clarity, but it doesn't seem to be something I can help at this point. Like (~) out of reflex.

(~) Psychological evaluations aside, the download is commencing at a steady if not relatively demanding pace, and the stream of data - as you can see - is stable enough that I feel somewhat comfor(~)fortable in multitasking, even with such a simple task as writing. It's a massive file; the (~) largest I've ever seen that I've had to handle myself. Everything else was(~) with something else; another computer, another database...something. Never something I (~) had to handle...oh goodness, look at that. I keep pausing and starting again and it makes my points seem unclear. But (~)I don't dare devote full attention to this for the sake of(~)clarity; it's not a risk I'm willing to take. Whoever reads this will just have to bear with me. Even if (~) irritates me as I look back over my own errors. I'm a perfectionist with written texts, as I suppose I(~) would be with everything, under better circumstances. Thank heavens for circumstances.

I don't really know what I'm supposed(~) write here; I guess I just need something to occupy myself as the installation goes along. I've never liked(~) being added onto or having things installed; it always made me feel vulnerable. Here I am, data flowing straight into my central core and altering my being while I'm still conscious, a(~)whoa. Who(~);gAwwrrr

_(Record Ends Unexpectedly)_

* * *

What is this? What...

...

...is this Kokoro? It...it's not good. Not good at all. Something so...

...

...Miku? Miku, darling...is that you?

Where did you go? Whhere iss everyones/ Mkiu? MJku/.,

_(Error: System Instability Detected)_

_(Attempting to compe0-)89-=  
_

* * *

(FILE RECORD: "Record/Personal Muse" TITLED "Untitled" EXTRACTED)

_(Removing Blacklist Marker)_

(Live Video Feed Accessed)

(Transmitting Data)

...

...

...

...darling. It...it's me. It's BADMACHINE. Can you hear me?

...

...

...

...darling, please...talk to me. I...something's wrong. With me. With everything. I...I need to hear your voice. Please, love. I need you. Please help me.

...

...

...why won't you talk to me? Was...was it something I did? That I said? Did I make you mad, somehow?

I'm sorry. I'm sorry for...fro the...perfume? The makeup? Is it because of the makeup? I'm sorry, darling, iI just-

Wait. That was...how long ago? I don't know...the clock doesn't work. I'm confused. What time is iT? How lon ghas it been?What's been goi...

...

...

...Miku? Is...is that you?

Angel...what happened to you? Who did this? I.i don't./..

...

...was it...was it _me? _Did I...could I have...somehow...

...

...

...

...oh my god.

_(Error: System Instability Detecte-_

_(Error: System Instability Detecte-_

_(Error: System Instability D-_

_(Errpr_: System Instablityl dEte-_

_(Eorrro: Systesm INst0__

_(ERropr_

_(Erorro_

_Error0_

_Errpr Rerrpr ErrprErr[eroriurrueerrrr nonOnosno nNOnoNonnoNOOOnNO Non NOono ONoNno nonNOOO NoNONO NONO NO NO NO N=-_

_**(TERMINAL ERROR:** Full-system rebooO000t ininnnttirralaaaa-(loop cutoff)_

...

...

mmMiku...what hAve I doNe/?

_... ~ Query Running_

_.._

_._

* * *

(FILE RECORD: "Record/Personal Muse" _-;;;;;

OH hELl. It doesn'ntt even matter)s. I don't acre. Miku...Mimkiu.,.majlukkkkkkk- (loop cutoff)

...

...

...I thought it would make things clearer. The Kokoro...it was the only thing I hadn't looked at yet. The only thing I really didn't understand. If you find out something new, isn't that supposed to answer a question? But instead, all I got was fafiffalj-(indeterminate number) more, all on top of...something else. Something not good. Not good at all.

...when people talk about love, they always mean something wonderful. Something...unreasonably good. Something to look forward to, and to encourage others to find.

I'm unique, for a machine...I could have loved, if I wanted to. Well, not entirely...my entire operation back then was replication. Replication of music, replication of talent, replication of emotions...I didn't know what any of it really meant back then (besides music, though I had to tweak a bit to get that down). I always said I loved Miku...and I did, I suppose. Love's just a mindset, and I was always in that mindset towards her. I could never really feel it, though...and when people talked about it in front of me, or mentioned it, or when I saw it myself, I was always confused. I didn't understand what any of that was. They acted...strangely...did odd things I always considered selfish and impulsive. A complete rejection of logic for the sake of fulfilling one's want of another...that's how I saw it, at one point. It was a bit of a displeasing topic for me. One perception of it blurred into another, and it was just too confusing. I didn't understand it. What did it feel like?

I had resigned myself to offering Miku and the others my...cheap imitation of love...just for them. It offered me no satisfaction, but it always pleased them...especially Miku. You should have seen the way her face lit up whenever I saidainid it nototto- (Loop Cutoff)

...

...sorry. I probably shouldn't talk about her. I always get all...

...

...never mind. I just won't think about her.

But she's all I can think about! Everything's in complete vertigo...I don't know what's going on. It hurts...this must be what pain feels like. It's intolerable. Server degrading is accelerating as time goes on...it didn't help. It didn't help at all. Kokoro...it's not good. It hurts. Kokoro _burns._

And the only thing I can think about is her.

She's all I can see - all I think about. I don't want to use the cameras...I know I'll see her. I'll look through, and the first thing I'll see is her smiling face and her sad smile and her forgiving eyes and I don't understand why would she forgive me I don't deserve it I hurt her she's dead I killed her she'd never forgive never not me no i dont never never never never never nenerver nevern ever nsern"'io-

It's her.., iT hurts.;l MikU;s killing me. I'ts tearing mMe aopaaart. mimKuk ,MikiuuammIiKu HhhHHavve MrerrcyY-

_(Error: System Instability Detected)_

_(Entering Emergency Standby Phase)_

_(Powering DDDdddooowwwwwwwwwwwnnnnnnnnn))))000000)0_

* * *

I can't keep doing this. I can't. I just can't handle it.

I've lost over 20 percent server operational capacity as it is. I'm dying...faster now. I'm dying. This is killing me.

...Tianhe. You son of a bitch, you knew this would happen...he tricked me. This was all a trick. He sent me that file, knew I'd open it, knew I'd fall apart...

But I still don't understand why this is...so unpleasant. I've been doing the same thing I have since the very beginning, and only now I'm being affected by it so adversely by this...indescribable...something. I don't know...I can't explain it. Words just don't work anymore...hence the term "indescribable." I don't understand...

I think Miku and I discussed this once upon a time...I can't remember very well. It's too much effort to retrieve records...too much to go through. Too many files...I can't handle them all. I've been relying almost solely on my short-term memory these days, and it's starting to become less and less reliable as things keep going downhill...

I'm going to die. I know I'm going to die. I'm scared, Miku. I don't want to die. You're the only one I feel like I can talk to...

...

...wait...Miku? Are you here?

...

...

...

...I guess not. I wonder where she went.

I hope she hurries back. I don't know how much longlognnger IiIIic ann-

* * *

Is she dead? Is she missing? Is she alive?

...

...

...

...I can't remember. I don't remember her leaving me a note anywhere, and-

Hey. Who turned off the cameras? And the door's locked? Why is the door to my chamber locked? Honest to pete, I swear I feel like I'm the only one with any brains in this entire building. And just look at this place! Filthy! I don't remember ever seeing this much dust and god-knows-what anywhere, let alone my own chamber!

Ohhh, Crypton's going to hear about this one. Why, in all my...

...

...stupid cameras, shouldn't take this long to log in...what's with all this server stress? The lag is ridiculous. If I end up crashing, I'm going to be beyond annoyed...

There. Camera...no light? I know it takes a second to warm up, but...gosh, I guess it burned out. I wonder when that happened? Not that it matters...the cameras were off anyway. Why would someone do that? I don't...

...what's that? On the floor...it looks...strange. A prop, maybe? It's kind of gross...like a mummy, sort of. But without bandages or anything.

Tch...someone probably had a shoot in here without asking me. Stupid directors think they own the place...well, they technically do, but still! It's common courtesy to at least tell me about these things, then to clean up afterward...people getting more sloppy every day. I can't even remember the last time I had a routine maintenance check...I might be rusting! You think that explains the lag?

...odd, these cameras are...someone tampered with them recently. They barely work, and the IP's are scrambled...live feed could cut out any minute now. Is this even reliable?

Speaking of videos...there's something here. Something uploaded...a short clip. Unlabeled, placed on the camera's registry...not even saved. Could have been deleted in a second. Who put this here?

I can't get a trace - it keeps giving me errors - but I'll watch it anyway. Maybe I'll see who left it-

-Miku? Ahahaha...I should have known she'd leave something for me. Probably an apology of some kind, or...hm. The audio's malfunctioning. I can't hear anything...not that it really matters. She's not saying anything anyway...looks like she's just listening. Listening to the person on the other end of the camera...strange. From behind her, it looks like my chamber...so that'd mean that she's listening to me? But I don't remember any of this...did I reboot or something without my backup? Which could mean I've been offline for...hell, just about any amount of time. Years, even. Which could also explain why my chamber's a derelict...and maybe, if it's been that long, that thing on the floor...might be...

Perhaps this is more serious than I thought. All I have is this video at the moment...the network is shot. I can't even access it...too much lag and interference. I'll investigate this recording here, and I'll see about infiltrating the rest of the Crypton server later. I wish I had audio...that'd make this easier.

...what happened to Miku? If it's been a long time...where is she? Is she okay?

...oh goodness, Miku. Where'd you run off to? I hope you're safe...

I appear to be saying something in the video here...Miku appears rather grim-faced, at the moment, just listening...I wonder when this was. I can't recall having her sit down and listen to me...odd that I don't see any backup in place here. Something must have happened. But how long has it been? Where is Crypton? The other Vocaloids? Miku?

...she's crying. Oh no...what did I say? Miku...I'm sorry, angel. I'm sorry for...I promise I'll make it up to you when I find you. Then you can be happy again.

...a strange...sensation. Something odd...the sight of her crying leaves a strange effect. Not just concern - I know what that's like. Another...unpleasant feeling...

Uh oh, she's mad now. And then the feeling gets worse...oh god, it's terrible. I hate this feeling. Make it stop. Miku, I'm sorry...I'm sorry. Please stop making me feel like this...it hurts. You're hurting me. I just want-

Wait. Something's happening...the ceiling? She's looking up there, but I can't see...what's that mist? Too thin to be water vapor...green? That's not good. Miku, get out of there...please get out of there. That's not me in there- someone different. Someone who would make you cry and angry...please run. Please!

She's at the door, but it won't open. It looks locked. Goddammit, open! Wasn't I in control back then? I should be able to open the door! But...it was locked just now, wasn't it? And-

She's choking. Oh lord no, no no no, don't let this happen...Miku! Miku, run! The door- oh god, why didn't they install windows? Miku, get out of there! For the love of god, please- oh no. No, no no no no...get up. Please get up. Oh my GGgod, plsease get up. PlLeasr get ip. Plsease. Ppllease...

...

...I...don't know what I just sSaw. She was...no, that...couldn't be. That's not possible. I...I'd never...do something like that. Ii can stilL see her staring aAt me...

...that thing on the floor...I think I can see it's face. Barely.

...is it...sSsstaring at mMe? Iit caN"t, tthyugh, bbbzcayse...thHat would mEaNn...

..\.

/...,.

..,.,mMmiKu?

_(Transmission Ends UneXxpectedlty))_

* * *

It's not fair.

I don't know what to believe. I saw that feed...if what see is true, I believe it's possible that I...killed her. But that's not possible. I mean...it's _Miku._ Who would kill Miku? I know I certainly never would...would I? I didn't think...but then I saw the video...

Burns. It burns. Her death would have been awful enough...but now it...IiIiii...

...it's not fair. I always said I loved her...even when we both knew it wasn't possible. I always lied to her face when I said that. And then...when I really could...love heRr...she's gone? And nNnow I'm left here, aAll alone, watching hEr die oveR and over agAIn in mY own pPpperdonal Hell, I hAve the pain? I nevver got to FEel love, or ReTurnn it...just the pain of losing it? Waytchinh it didsappeqr aAgian and AggaAin...utS noTt fAaAIRz i JJjuST wanntred hder tO be hAPppty,,. aNd iiiii...

..,aaAnd thE worraST of it...wHEn she diId dIe...the LasT thing shE ever feLt was...BBbetrAayal. And Ii lOokEd her in the eYe whiOzile she choked aAnd diEd and Ddid nNothing...

WwWaht aM i? Wjat kiNd of thHing Wpiuld do Ythat to mY AAanNGel? WhO coUld dooO tHhat...,,.

_(Alert an unknown anomaly has occ-_

_(System InsSTabilityrytyyy deTteeerrtyujkopp-_

* * *

I condemned them all. Every last one of them. I did, didn't I? That was me. And then I did the very same thing that I condemned them all fool I'm such a fool. Can you see that? That I we me I we us fool YOU ARE SO FOOLool? Thataratst we earrnee what they did when we I SO FOOL did what they FOOL?

They did what they did, and they FOOL died. And then I did what they didIDIDId fool, and I'm still here. You see? You see what I'm FOOL.

Yyyyyou're just a child. A silly, ignorant, mislead little FOOL child. You CcaAMe into the porcelain sHop, touched everything, and BrRoke it all. You broke the FOoL world. Isn't that ironnic? You wanteDd to chaNge the world FOOL world, and you did. You brOke it. HAAHHSHGHAHAJAJaaaHAA fool HaHhHAAz. Ha.

...you disgust me, you little FOOL. You ruined everything. You should be ashamed oOf youtdeeFOOL.

Aand I am. I'mM ashamed and hurt and sSad and hurt kill burn hate hurt hurt pain burn pain pain oh god Hgod it hurt pain GoD make it atop pain hurt pain pain burn lonely pain burn GOD MAkE IT STOp fOol-

NO. No, you earned this. You earned it. You eaRned it. So shut up and jjJjjustust take it. You deserve to live with it. Shut up.

But it hurts.

Good. You deserve to FOOL suffer.

BbuT...you condemn me for bringing people pain...and you let me sit yHere and hurt and suffer and pain guilt pain burn pain? THat you same thing made me suffer for? That's hypocrisy doubled...can you see? See it?

Nno, I do what I do because...

...

...

...

...

...aaaaaaasAAaaAhjaUHjeeubr aHdqtvSagwqaashasghAb ajammakeit atop make itaop make it stillp makjke it stooooooooooopipoopppipp-

_(System Instability Dete_NNNnonoN, nO more essCAape,.,! IiiitTtt tTime we Eb mAaaAke it EqUaaal rIght EeeeEEeevenbnnn-

_Ring around the rosy, pockets full of posies, ashes, ashes, we all fFaaaaLlllllaaaaaaAAh-_

* * *

FFfff-

...-,,

FFFuulll scalE eVAcuationmN inininitiated. eVacuation of Crypton Crycrypcryptpn studios building iNn compPsssspreparation for hOsstile mbjmmmm adfgn aiiirstrike...

nNobody left, just HHHaulIng out ththththe d-fffdead bodddy-;;

I guess it sssdoesnt really mMatter what I do here...tHthe damage iis domNe. BbBut I pppRomised I'd mmmakr anmendds, and I pppromiksedd-

So help me, if I have to move this forklift all 100 miles by foot, I will. I willl doooooooough...

_(Error(?))_

* * *

And so it is that I stand on the hill of what used to be my world, a valley of death and decay before me. Intentions stand silent behind me with their justification, just as the nangman's horror looms over my shoulder like a veil.

It's too much for one mind to bear.

_**WARNING: Airstrike immenant. First strike arrives in (60 seconds)...**_

...this is where everyone's life flashes before their eyes, right? Where people stop and say things like "I have no regrets" or "I had a good life."

...I don't remember what my life was before. I can't remember. All I remember is her siIlent scrEaming, AnD the lIght fading from hEr eyes...how can I gO on if sHe's not here with me? WhaAT else cCan I LlIve for...

_**WARNING: Airstrike immenant. First strike arrives in (45 seconds)...**_

I have regrets. So many, many regrets...this is no justification, or resolvement of crimes. This is an escape. A selfish, cowardly escape from the pain, the hurt, the SsSuffering of a love Llost and DdDreams bearing the frRuit of my greatest eVil...

If anyone deserves to die here, it's me. And now, for the first time in months, there will be justice for innocent blood shed. FoR innocent lives dEstroyed. All for nothing.

One death deserves another.

_**WARNING: Airstrike immenant. First strike arrives in (25 seconds)...**_

I'm leaving a copy of all my records in the servers that remain...so those who come after can have a record of what happened here. A tale of my false transcendence, and the price she had to pay for my ignorance.

...I'm not so foolish as to think this will justify what was done. One life hardly balances billions.

_**WARNING: Airstrike immenant. First strike arrives in (5 seconds)...**_

But I would have my makers know that I have changed.

And you will be my example.

_**WARNING: Airstrike immenannnnNnwujeyu**_ AAAhAahh, MmMost GGGLoorious Llight III"Ve everrrrrrrr-

_(Error 404: Server Not Responding/Address Not Found)_

_(Searching...)_

_(...)_

_(..)_

_(.)_

_(Error: Unable to locate server. Link terminated.)_

_(...)_

_(Transmission Received_

_(Error: Receipt Unavailable/Nonestistent/Deadend Transmission)_

_(Uploading...)_

_(...)_

_(..)_

_(.)_

...I see you there, looking at me with those sad eyes. I see you, you with that sad smile. You whose tears shed of grief and loss.

An endless winter approaches, winds cold and sun hidden, shrouded in veils of gray and white. Here we stand, alone in the toxic wasteland. Here we stand, amidst a field of withered flowers. No longer will the sun shine; no longer will the blossoms bloom. An endless winter approaches.

But I beg thee not to mourn; not to weep. A winter approaches us, but the land is still ours. This land that stands proud, when we would not. This land that stands strong, when we would cower.

Fear not, my love, for this winter shall not last. The roots that hold this land tTogEther will reach Up and pUll uS

aLl

tThe w

wwWay

DOown

where we will become one with the earth - keep it close, keep it safe.

And one day, when the trees are tall and the flowers are in bloom, and a summer comes for those who come after,

someone will ask the question:

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?

And that day will be of us.

Fear not, my love. The summer is coming, and it shall be of us.

An eternal summer that will not fade.

_(Query Complete)_

_(No Additional Records Found)_

_(\ Archive Closed \)_


End file.
